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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28794879">A Divine Deadline</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeoRyu777/pseuds/NeoRyu777'>NeoRyu777</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>DivinationIsUseful, Gen, Gods, Motivated!Harry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 07:55:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>73,464</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28794879</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeoRyu777/pseuds/NeoRyu777</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Harry meets the Morrigan at the end of his first year, and learns about Horcruxes... and that the gods have set a deadline on humanity's survival.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Beginning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts, Harry Potter woke up slowly, drowsily at first, and then with a start. Voldemort! The back of Quirrel’s head! The Philospher’s Stone! And then… and then… Harry shuddered, and only then registered that Albus Dumbledore stood before his bed, looking at him calmly, waiting with a gentle smile. </p>
<p>“Professor!” Harry exclaimed. “The Stone! It was Voldemort, possessing Quirrel!”</p>
<p>“Indeed it was, dear boy. But do not worry, he does not have the Stone.” </p>
<p>“I know he doesn’t!” Harry burst out. “You and Nicolas Flamel destroyed it, but we have bigger problems right now!”</p>
<p>Dumbledore blinked in apparent surprise. “How did you know that the Stone was destroyed?” </p>
<p>“Please, Professor, I know it doesn’t make much sense, but when I was passed out, my spirit was pulled somewhere, and I met… her.” Harry shivered. </p>
<p>Now Dumbledore appeared visibly alarmed. “Who is ‘her’?” </p>
<p>“The Morrigan. The Irish Goddess of war, death and fate.” Harry looked down at his hands, which were trembling just from the memory. “She said she could only reach me because I fulfilled the right conditions to be close to her… demesne I think was the word? She said I was ‘marked’, and that I had just won a battle to the death against a being that cheated death while being close to death myself.”</p>
<p>The sharp intake of breath from Dumbledore startled Harry into looking back up into his Headmaster’s face. Dumbledore took a moment to breathe, then two, visibly calming himself. Then he drew his wand, and made a few complicated motions in the air. Harry felt the air suddenly still, tense with what could only be magic. He then pulled up a chair and sat down at Harry’s bedside. “Harry, this is very important. Gods do not tend to interfere in our lives, and when they do, it is almost never to mortal benefit. Did she offer a bargain, or a pact?”</p>
<p>“No sir. She had a message, and said it was from all the gods.” </p>
<p>“All the Irish gods?”</p>
<p>“No, sir. I thought the same, and she clarified. All the gods. Every culture, every continent. Even the gods of Antarctica, who really don’t care about humans in general. I’m not sure why she pointed that out, to be honest. Maybe to really emphasize how big a deal it was?” Harry shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. The message. Voldemort’s using a magic forbidden by the gods, splitting his soul. Apparently mortals call the result a Horcrux?”</p>
<p>Dumbledore stilled. “You are certain that is what she called it?”</p>
<p>“Yes, sir. And, well, the gods are angry about it. Every other Horcrux-creator apparently had their Horcrux destroyed soon after the owner’s death, but it’s been nearly fifty years since Voldemort made his first one. The Morrigan said that no Horcrux in history has been active for so long, and it’s having… side effects on the world and on the gods? She tried to explain a little, but I didn’t really get it. Sorry, sir.”</p>
<p>“It’s quite alright, I’m not sure I would understand either. Just to be clear, she did say ‘first Horcrux’, implying more than one?” Dumbledore questioned. </p>
<p>“Yes, sir.”</p>
<p>“And the gods are somehow impacted by Voldemort’s Horcruxes?”</p>
<p>“That’s how I understood it, sir.”</p>
<p>“I see.” Dumbledore closed his eyes and nodded once, sharply. “Alright, Harry. Was there anything else?” </p>
<p>Harry took a deep breath and nodded. This next bit was the really frightening part. “We have a deadline. The gods have given us seven years, seven months, and seven days. Three sevens, the Morrigan said. All of Voldemort’s Horcruxes must be destroyed, and Voldemort must be killed, before that day. Otherwise…” Harry winced, remembering the feeling of doom that the Morrigan had imposed upon him. “Otherwise, the gods will end humanity. To protect themselves, it sounded like.”</p>
<p>Dumbledore was quiet for a full minute, and Harry waited silently, knowing that Dumbledore probably needed time to process this. “Well, all things considered, it could be worse,” Dumbledore finally proclaimed cheerfully, much to Harry’s surprise. </p>
<p>“I… I don’t understand, sir,” Harry confessed. </p>
<p>“Little has changed,” Dumbledore explained. “Voldemort is a problem, but I knew that already, and now so do you. He is currently immortal, which I had believed, and you have now confirmed. We now know his method of immortality, which I had been unsure of, so in that respect we know more than when we started, and so we can narrow down our search. True, we now have a deadline, which eliminates the possibility of delaying Voldemort’s return indefinitely while we search safely for his Horcruxes, but all things considered, the sooner Voldemort is vanquished, the fewer people he can hurt in his search to return to a body.”</p>
<p>“But sir, seven years…!”</p>
<p>“Seven years, seven months, and seven days, correct? Well, seven years, seven months and four days now, if we assume that the clock began on the day of your confrontation.”</p>
<p>Harry’s jaw dropped for a moment. “Wait, I’ve been out for three days?!” </p>
<p>“Indeed you have, Harry. Wait,” Dumbledore hurriedly cautioned as Harry began making movements to throw the covers off the hospital bed and stand, “Madame Pomphrey will have my head if I allow you to rise before she had a chance to look at you, so I must ask that you wait for her. Besides, what would you do if I allowed you up right now? Do you know where a Horcrux is? Do you know what items Voldemort chose to host his Horcruxes? Do you have the knowledge or ability to destroy them?”</p>
<p>Harry stopped his urgent movements – Dumbledore raised very good points. Reluctantly, he settled back into the bed. “No sir. I’m just…” </p>
<p>“Understandably frightened,” Dumbledore interrupted. “Meeting one of the gods is not for the faint of heart, let alone one acting as a messenger for all of them. You’ve done what you needed to, bringing their message to my attention. Harry, you are a child, and while I understand your anxiety, it is not your responsibility to rectify the situation.”</p>
<p>“But sir, I… I can’t just forget this. The fate of the world is at stake, I want to help however I can. I just… don’t know how,” Harry whispered, looking down again. </p>
<p>“My dear boy, what do you think a school is for? To help people learn what they need to survive and thrive,” Dumbledore reminded Harry with a smile. “Your desire to help is noble, and in fact quite welcome. I doubt many would believe me if I were to share the gods’ message with them, so I daresay that I will in fact need your assistance before the crisis is over. However, there are a great many things I can do before it comes to that, so you should spend your time growing and learning. I already have some thoughts on how to proceed, so you shouldn’t worry overmuch about it. With luck, I will be able to resolve the whole matter before you graduate Hogwarts. So have some faith in your old Headmaster.”</p>
<p>Hearing that final reassurance, Harry felt his body relax for the first time since he’d woken, and all of a sudden, he felt quite drained. “Thank you, Professor.” </p>
<p>“You should be aware, my boy, that what happened between you and Professor Quirrel in the dungeons is a complete secret. So naturally, the whole school already knows everything, save for the most important part: Voldemort’s spirit inhabiting Quirrel’s body. Such is the nature of secrets, I suppose.”</p>
<p>“Should I tell people about Voldemort, sir?” </p>
<p>Dumbledore made a thoughtful hum at the question. “Truthfully, Harry? In situations regarding difficult-to-believe secrets, such as this one, I generally believe the most correct course of action is alerting a small handful people that we can trust – especially those who might be able to help – but otherwise keeping our own counsel.” </p>
<p>Harry nodded thoughtfully, biting his lip. “So, I should probably tell Hermione and Ron, since they were there, but I probably shouldn’t mention it to other people.”</p>
<p>“I would also advise against sharing your experience meeting the Morrigan to anyone, including Miss Granger and Mister Weasley. Meeting a god is unheard of outside of extremely rare and esoteric magics, ones that I would very much prefer are not reintroduced within Hogwarts walls. Miss Granger would almost certainly research your experience, bringing attention to it, which is something we should avoid for the moment.”</p>
<p>Harry didn’t like it, but he could see the sense in it. Dumbledore certainly had Hermione pegged, and it wouldn’t be fair to tell Ron and not Hermione. “Sir, are you going to tell anyone? About Voldemort being alive, sort of, and about the Morrigan?”</p>
<p>“Concerning VoIdemort’s spectral state, I likely will have to,” Dumbledore admitted. “While I am, if I may be immodest a moment, quite a capable wizard, I am but one man, and I do not know everything. I may consult with the Department of Mysteries – a branch of the Ministry of Magic that focuses on research and unusual magics. I may also consult with a Diviner – a wizard or witch who specializes in Divination, or information gathering magic – if I can find one and ascertain their trustworthiness.”</p>
<p>“Are they rare?” Harry asked.</p>
<p>“Yes and no. While basic Divination magic, such as locating a possession you’ve misplaced in your home, are accessible to most wizards, the more advanced magics require quite a bit of dedication to master. Combined with how Diviners are not well-regarded in modern society, due to their ability to find other people’s secrets, few put in the effort to acquire the skill, and even fewer advertise it. Many actually believe me to be a Diviner, but between you and me, I lack the knack.” </p>
<p>Harry’s eyes widened. “Is Divination taught at Hogwarts?”</p>
<p>“Yes, starting in your third year.” Dumbledore looked down at Harry through his spectacles searchingly. “However, if you are truly curious, there are some books on Divination in the Hogwarts library in the non-restricted sections. Far be it from me to deter a student from studying ahead.” </p>
<p>Harry smiled. </p>
<p>“Now, speaking of learning, do you have any questions you wish to ask me?” </p>
<p>“Loads! I mean, you obviously used the Stone to lure in Voldemort, but how did you know he was still alive?”</p>
<p>Dumbledore smiled. “The largest indicator I had was certain magics that Voldemort cast before his fateful encounter with your family. If he were truly dead, they would have faded entirely. Instead, they only faded partly, so I had reason to believe that he persisted, somehow. I then followed rumors of suspicious activity to Albania, and after his encounter with poor Professor Quirrell, I had confirmation.”</p>
<p>“But why Hogwarts? Why not somewhere else where Voldemort wasn’t close to children?” </p>
<p>Dumbledore smile turned to a grimace. “Hogwarts wasn’t the first attempt,” he admitted. “After Professor Quirrell encountered Voldemort in Albania this past summer, Nicolas and I worked quickly. Wherever we set up as a trap, we concluded, needed to be somewhere that Professor Quirrell and Voldemort would feel comfortable being in the area. We tried housing the Stone in Gringotts first, in a special vault.”</p>
<p>“You mean, the vault that Hagrid emptied when I went to Diagon Alley?” Harry clarified.</p>
<p>“Indeed. The package surrounding the Stone was turned into a Portkey – an item that would magically transport you to a preset location. If anyone but Hagrid, Nicolas or I had touched it, he would have been transported to a special cell that had been enchanted in a way to prevent Voldemort from escaping long enough for Nicolas and I to seal him away. When Voldemort didn’t make a move on the Stone for more than a month, we assumed the plot had failed because Gringotts was too secure. Nicolas and I discussed our options. Since Voldemort didn’t have his strength back, he would need to lay low, so he would be with Professor Quirrell at Hogwarts regardless. I could not fire Professor Quirrell without cause, and I had thought that Voldemort was using a traditional possession, meaning that any given moment, I wouldn’t know if he was inside Professor Quirrell’s body or not.”</p>
<p>“You couldn’t prove Voldemort was in Quirrell, so you couldn’t fire Quirrell, so Voldemort was going to be at Hogwarts no matter what you did,” Harry summarized. </p>
<p>Dumbledore nodded. “Nicolas and I decided that if Voldemort was going to be there regardless, it would be best to distract him from the students by moving the Stone to Hogwarts. That way, Voldemort would be more focused on the prize of immortality, than on the students. And with luck, Voldemort would have fallen into our trap.” </p>
<p>Harry frowned, not liking the explanation but understanding it. “Why not use a fake Stone?”</p>
<p>“Divination magics. I’ve never been able to confirm it, but I suspect that Voldemort has enough of a grasp on them to be able to discern the truth. Before his fall, he claimed consistently that he could always tell if he was being lied to, and he was unusually good at finding the weaknesses of people. I could mimic the appearance and texture of the Stone easily enough with some Transfiguration, but the issue is that nearly everything about it is well-known – its height, its weight, its color, et cetera. Divination theory states that the more you know about an item, the more easily you are able to divine its location – that is to say, the easier it is to find with magic. There are wards and such to help prevent those spells from working, but the goal, as you observed, was to lure Voldemort into a trap. He would have noticed immediately if the spells were pointing him away from Hogwarts. No, the Flamels and I agreed that it would have to be the true Stone if the plan was to succeed.”</p>
<p>“What was the trap, anyway, after the Stone was put in Hogwarts?” Harry asked, curious. </p>
<p>“Ultimately, I wanted Voldemort’s shade sealed away,” Dumbledore admitted. “The real trap was the Mirror of Erised. Do you remember how you retrieved the Stone from the Mirror?” </p>
<p>“Yeah, I wanted to keep it from Voldemort, so the mirror gave it to me.” </p>
<p>“Only someone who wanted to find it, and not use it, would have been able to take the Stone from the Mirror. One of my more ingenious ideas, really. So naturally, Voldemort would not have been able to retrieve it. Professor Quirrell might have been able to, if he had had completely selfless reasons, and had I not specifically warded against him as well.” At Harry’s startled look, Dumbledore chuckled. “Dear boy, I knew about Voldemort possessing Professor Quirrell from the beginning. In any case, do you recall how entranced you were when you found the Mirror over Christmas break? That is part of the magic of the Mirror of Erised. The more you desire what you see within it, the longer you are exposed to the Mirror’s magic, the stronger its hold on you is… until the rest of the world simply isn’t important any longer.”</p>
<p>Harry was suddenly reminded of what Dumbledore had said back then. “You said that men have wasted away before the Mirror. But Voldemort was a spirit. He can’t die again, so he’d be trapped!” </p>
<p>“Precisely.”</p>
<p>“But if the only real trap was the Mirror, then why all the other parts? Fluffy, the Devil’s Snare, the winged keys, the chess challenge, the potions riddle?” </p>
<p>“An illusion and appeal to Voldemort’s pride,” Dumbledore revealed. “We needed to put up a pretense of effort. It could not be so well guarded that he could not get past, else the Mirror trap became pointless, but nor could it be so lax that he would suspect the truth. A difficult balance to find, I admit. That Devil’s Snare was not a traditional one – it was specifically bred to feed on dark magic; if Voldemort had used a dark fire curse, as he was wont to use during his rise some years ago, the Devil’s Snare would grow and expand extremely quickly. The keys challenge was designed for teamwork, something that Voldemort loathed using personally as he felt it was indicative of personal weakness. The chess challenge was built for patience, and to delay the intruder, to exacerbate their impatience because of the looming threat of being caught.”</p>
<p>Harry nodded, impressed. “What about the potions riddle?” </p>
<p>“A method to prevent more than one person from entering the final room. The potion with the way forward had barely enough for one person, yes? The goal was to isolate Voldemort and Professor Quirrell from any hostages or followers.” </p>
<p>“Then why was there still enough for me after he was there first?”</p>
<p>“Professor Snape used some complex magics to refill the bottle, but only after several minutes of the room being empty.” </p>
<p>“So, you needed Voldemort to believe that you and the Professors had done their best to keep him from the Stone, to strip away any help he might have had, while also delaying him long enough for you to return? And because he thought the trap was to keep him there long enough for you, he wouldn’t be thinking about how the Mirror itself was the trap?” </p>
<p>“Quite so. Very accurately summarized.” </p>
<p>Harry’s felt a rock form in his gut, and looked down guiltily. “Then… then I messed it up. Professor McGonagall warned us that the Stone was adequately protected. It’s my fault that Voldemort’s still loose.” </p>
<p>“Quite the opposite in fact,” Dumbledore corrected. “I had not anticipated that Voldemort was hidden on the back of Professor Quirrell’s head, instead of using traditional possession. By not looking into the Mirror himself, Voldemort was protecting himself from the Mirror’s magic. Regardless of Professor Quirrell’s failure or success, Voldemort would not have fallen into my trap. Your interruption prompted Voldemort to reveal himself, and gave my trap a higher chance of success. That it did not work is not your fault.” </p>
<p>The rock in his gut vanished at the Headmaster’s words. “Thank you, Professor.” </p>
<p>“You are quite welcome, Harry.” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled merrily as he stood up. “Now then, I do believe it is time for me to go. Madame Pomphrey is waiting quite impatiently for me to leave so she can check on you.”</p>
<p>A flash of thought crossed Harry’s brain. “Sir, one more question before you go?”</p>
<p>“Of course.”</p>
<p>“Why… why wasn’t Voldemort able to touch me? Is that why he went after me when I was a baby? He said that my mother didn’t have to die, that he was after me specifically.”</p>
<p>Dumbledore’s smile faltered somewhat. “Voldemort was unable to touch you, because your mother enacted an extremely powerful protection spell on you, powered by sacrificing her own life. I believe that that spell is the reason why you survived that night as well. But no, Voldemort was after you for a different reason. You said the Morrigan called you ‘marked.’ He pursued anyone who could be marked in the way the Morrigan meant, and you were a possibility.”</p>
<p>“But what does it mean, to be marked?” </p>
<p>Dumbledore shook his head. “I cannot tell you. Not today. Not now. You will know one day, I promise you that. But for now, put it from your mind. When you are older, when you are ready, you will know.”  </p>
<p>His tone made it clear that his mind would not be changed, and Harry nodded reluctantly. </p>
<p>Seeing this, Dumbledore shook himself a little, straightening out his robes before gesturing at Harry’s bedside table. “On a different note, I might suggest you start on your sweets.”</p>
<p>Harry blinked. “Sweets?” He glanced at the bedside table for the first time since he’d awoken, and then stared in utter surprise. It must have been covered in the half the contents of a candy shop. “What? How? Who?” he sputtered. </p>
<p>“Tokens from your friends and admirers. As I understand it, Misters Fred and George Weasley attempted to deliver a toilet seat – a private joke I assume? In any case, Madame Pomphrey believed it would not be very hygienic, and thus confiscated it. But I see you have enough sweets to keep you occupied for quite some time.” </p>
<p>Harry considered that quite the understatement – it was more candy than he’d ever seen Dudley have at one time, save for Halloween of course. If he didn’t want to give himself one heck of a stomachache, he’d have to space it out over a few days at least. </p>
<p>Dumbledore chuckled, and Harry blushed, realizing he’d said the last part aloud. “Then perhaps I might help with that. Let’s see… ah! Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans! I was unfortunate enough in my youth to come across a vomit-flavoured one, and since then I’ve rather lost my liking for them.” He plucked out a single white bean and inspected it suspiciously. “Hmm. Salt, perhaps?” He popped it in his mouth, and visibly relaxed. “Ah, snow. How nostalgic.”</p>
<p>Harry grinned at him, and Dumbledore smiled back as he departed. True to his prediction, Madame Pomphrey rushed in moments later. Harry barely paid any attention as he laid back in the bed, thinking to himself. He thought about the Morrigan, and the seven years the world had left to finish Voldemort and his Horcruxes, wherever they were. He thought about what it might mean to be ‘marked’. And he thought about Divination, magics for gathering information. </p>
<p>There was so much he didn’t know. He didn’t know why Snape and the Dursleys seemed to hate him so much. He didn’t know very much about his parents at all. And it sounded like Dumbledore might have trouble finding a Diviner he could trust. Maybe, just maybe, Divination could give him some answers, and help Dumbledore at the same time?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Day 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Leaving Feast, and some last-minute studying</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Madame Pomphrey finally allowed Hermione and Ron to visit, Harry took the time to explain his latest encounter with Voldemort. “… and so I couldn’t think of anything else to do. My touch burned him, and he was trying to kill me, so I grabbed his face and held on. It hurt my head a lot though, more than anything, and I passed out. Dumbledore saved me.”</p><p>“But what about the Stone?” Ron asked. </p><p>“Dumbledore must have taken it back,” Hermione told him. “Probably gave it back to Nicolas Flamel.”</p><p>Harry shook his head. “Dumbledore and Flamel destroyed it.”</p><p>“What?!” Ron exclaimed. “Doesn’t that mean that…”</p><p>“Well, maybe,” Harry replied, uncertain. “He made the original Philosopher’s Stone, and no one knows how. Maybe he can just make another one. But I don’t think he would’ve had the Stone destroyed unless he was ready.” </p><p>Ron looked about as uncertain as Harry himself, but nodded. </p><p>“What about you guys? What happened?” </p><p>“Well, I got back all right,” Hermione said. “I managed to bring Ron around, and we were dashing to the owlery when Dumbledore showed up in the entrance hall. He already knew everything, said ‘Harry’s gone after him, hasn’t he?’ and hurtled off to the third floor.”</p><p>“Do you think he meant for you to do it?” Ron asked. “He did send you your cloak and all.” </p><p>Harry shook his head. “No, I asked him. The Mirror in the end was supposed to be the trap for Voldemort, but since Voldemort wasn’t directly looking at it, the trap wasn’t working. I wasn’t intended to be there, but since me showing up made Voldemort reveal himself, it wasn’t a bad thing altogether. All in all, it ended alright.” </p><p>Hermione let out a sigh of relief. “It would’ve been bad if he had wanted you to be there. We’re first year students, and Professor Quirrell was an adult wizard, let alone You-Know-Who! Setting you up to fight him would’ve been terribly irresponsible! I’m so glad it wasn’t like that.” </p><p>Phrased like that, it did sound like a terrible idea to Harry. “The only reason we went in the first place was that we thought the adults didn’t have all the information, and weren’t listening to us,” Harry reminded her. “With any luck, that won’t happen again.”</p><p>“Hopefully,” Ron agreed. “This time cost us the Quidditch cup, after all. While you were unconscious, Ravenclaw stomped Gryffindor flat.”</p><p>Harry expected to feel bad about that, but he really didn’t. It couldn’t have been helped – with the information he had, Harry had made the best decision he could. And frankly, preventing Voldemort from returning was more important than a trophy. And besides, now he knew about the gods’ deadline. More than a fair trade, in his opinion. </p><p>“So when’re you going to be allowed out?” Ron asked curiously. </p><p>“Madame Pomphrey says that she wants to monitor me one more night and tomorrow morning. I can attend the feast tomorrow, though. Do you guys know who all sent me the candy? It’d be rude not to thank them.” </p><p>Hermione looked at the candy thoughtfully. “Now that you mention it, I don’t know? I don’t even know where they’d get all this candy. It’s not like the lady with the trolley from the Hogwarts Express has a shop here, I don’t think.” </p><p>“A couple of the Chocolate Frogs are from me, and the twins donated a bit too.” Ron admitted. “Fred and George know how to sneak down to Hogsmeade. But I’m sure they didn’t buy all of this.”</p><p>“Huh. Well, thanks, Ron. I appreciate it,” Harry said, oddly touched. No one had ever given him feel-better gifts before. “You didn’t have to, you know.” </p><p>“I know,” Ron said, looking a bit embarrassed. “Just glad you’re alright. Want me to ask around, so you know who to talk to?”</p><p>“Please,” Harry agreed. </p><p>Hermione and Ron soon left, satisfied that their friend would be up and about soon. Harry stayed up a little longer, looking over his candy and wondering else might have sent him some, but his still-recovering body soon called him to sleep. </p><p>The next morning, Harry felt nearly back to normal. As Madame Pomphrey came over to check on him, waving her wand and muttering under her breath, Harry found himself curious. “Madame Pomphrey? What are those spells you’re using?”</p><p>“They’re diagnostic charms,” she informed him briskly. “They analyze your body and magic in different ways, like measuring blood flow or your heart rate.” </p><p>“That sounds interesting,” Harry commented. “Anything unusual?”</p><p>“Nothing unexpected,” she replied after another few moments of analysis. “Your magic is a bit sluggish, but that’s to be expected after recovering from magical exhaustion. Your brain function appears normal. Your body is nearly done flushing the stress hormones you’ve been flooded with. I expect you’re feeling much better than yesterday. I’d prefer to keep you until you were completely better, but Dumbledore has stated you are to be allowed to go to the feast. However, if you start to feel worse, for any reason, I expect you to come back straight away.”</p><p>“Yes, Madame Pomphrey,” Harry agreed dutifully. “Will Hogwarts teach us those spells, or did you have to learn them on your own, or…?”</p><p>“The spells themselves are in the Hogwarts library.” Madame Pomphrey’s voice was a little less strict. “But they won’t do you any good by themselves. They’re only useful if you can interpret the results. Starting in your fifth year, there is an optional elective for those interested in becoming medi-wizards. The elective requires a strong background in Charms and Potions, and at least some experience in Divination is preferable.” </p><p>Harry blinked. Divination again? “I thought that Diviners were looked down on,” he asked, confused. </p><p>Madame Pomphrey huffed. “Don’t ever call a medi-wizard a Diviner, child. Most think it a terrible insult. Medi-wizards specialize in divining medical information about patients, exclusively for the purpose of healing them, and they usually require close proximity. On top of that, medi-wizards operate under strict oaths to prevent spreading medical secrets. Diviners are harder to predict, and don’t have anything restricting them from hoarding and sharing secrets. In this world, Mr. Potter, secrets are more valuable than gold, and Diviners are considered little more than thieves.” </p><p>Oh. “Sorry if I insulted you, ma’am,” Harry mumbled. </p><p>“Not worry, lad. You were trying to learn, this is a school, and it’s our job to teach you. Now, you’ve got another visitor. He’s been waiting for us to finish up.” She gave him a piercing look. “Let me know immediately if you start feeling unwell.”</p><p>“Yes Madame Pomphrey.” </p><p>The nurse eyed him for a moment longer, apparently judging how truthful he was, then swept away. A moment later, Hagrid came through the door nervously. He took a seat next to Harry, took one look at him, and promptly burst into tears. </p><p>“It’s – all – my – ruddy – fault!” Hagrid sobbed, burying his face in his hands. “I told the evil git how ter get past Fluffy! I told him! It was the only thing he didn’t know, an’ I told him! Yeh could’ve died!”</p><p>“Hagrid!” Harry exclaimed. He was completely shocked to see Hagrid so broken down, shaking as great tears of remorse and guilt trailed their way to his beard. “Listen, it was Voldemort, he would’ve found out somehow even if you didn’t tell him. Even Muggles have stories about how a three-headed dog can be put to sleep with music.” </p><p>“Yeh could’ve… wait, what? Muggles know abou’ that?” </p><p>“Yeah,” Harry confirmed, glad he’d managed to distract his friend. “Old legends about Greek gods and heroes. There’s a famous three-headed dog named Cerberus who guards the underworld in the story, and a hero put him to sleep with music so he could sneak past.” </p><p>“Imagine tha’. I never would’ve guessed.” Hagrid thought on the matter for a moment or two, then apparently remembered where he was. “But Harry, yeh could’ve died! And it don’t matter if that evil git could’ve learned it from somewhere else, because I’m the one who told him!” </p><p>“Hagrid, Dumbledore wanted Voldemort to get past,” Harry told him simply. </p><p>That stopped Hagrid in his tracks. “What?”</p><p>“All the traps the teachers put down, were just to make Voldemort think he’d bested all of you. The Mirror at the end that Dumbledore set up, that was the real trap. I wasn’t supposed to go at all.” </p><p>Hagrid stared at Harry in disbelief. “Dumbledore wanted Voldemort ter get past?” </p><p>“Yeah, but he didn’t want Voldemort to know that or have an easy time of it. So, when you think about it, you did exactly what you were supposed to.” </p><p>“… I’m gonna need ter talk ter Dumbledore later,” Hagrid mumbled. “But as long as you’re not upset with me…?”</p><p>“I’m really not,” Harry assured him emphatically. </p><p>“Well, alrigh’ then.” Hagrid gave a weak chuckle. “By the way, I’ve got yeh a present. Dumbledore gave me the day off yesterday ter fix it.” He lifted it up to Harry’s lap.</p><p>It seemed to be a handsome, leather-covered book. Curious, Harry opened it up. It was full of wizard photographs. Smiling and waving from every page were pictures of his mother and father. </p><p>“Sent owls to all yer parents’ old school friends, askin’ for photos. Knew yeh didn’ have any… d’ya like it?” </p><p>Harry couldn’t speak, but the tearful joy must’ve shown in his face, because Hagrid simply smiled back. After Hagrid left, Harry spent the next few hours looking at each and every photo, dedicating his parents’ faces – and those of their friends – to memory. Some of them were from different years of Hogwarts. The earliest photo there was from when James and Lily were apparently in their fourth year of Hogwarts, and it was from that one that Harry could see that he really did resemble James. He did have to wonder, though, who their friends were. </p><p>As the afternoon waned on, Madame Pomphrey gave Harry one last checkup, and then sent him on his way to the Great Hall for the end-of-year feast. Judging from the sounds of it, the Great Hall was already full, so Harry would be the last one in. Hoping he’d be relatively unnoticed, he quietly walked in.   </p><p>There was a sudden hush as he came in, and Harry was just starting to feel uncomfortable when everyone started loudly talking. He quickly slipped into a seat between Ron and Hermione and tried to ignore how people were standing up to get a look at him. </p><p>Fortunately, Dumbledore arrived moments later, and all sound died away. “Another year gone,” Dumbledore began cheerfully, “and I must trouble you with listening to me once more before we can sink our teeth into a delicious feast. Hopefully your heads a bit fuller than they were last year! After all, you have all summer to get them nice and empty again before the new year starts. </p><p>“Now, as I understand it, the house cup needs awarding, but we find ourselves in an unusual situation. The points currently stand thus: in fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two. But most of us know what happened four nights ago, in the forbidden area on the third floor.</p><p>“For those of us who have yet to hear, hidden within the forbidden area was a priceless artifact, the Philosopher’s Stone, guarded by several traps devised by the Professors and myself. Professor Quirrell betrayed us, sending me out of the castle with a fake letter from the Ministry of Magic, and using the distraction to try to take the Stone. Three first-year Gryffindors had learned about the Stone earlier in the year, and they realized the situation and attempted to alert Professor McGonagall. They were assured the Stone was safe, and summarily dismissed.”</p><p>McGonagall’s expression was stern, but when her eyes met Harry’s, she eyes seemed to convey an apology. Harry smiled at her, trying to silently say that all was forgiven. The way her eyes crinkled, he thought she got the message. </p><p>“The Gryffindors were not reassured, however, and chased after Professor Quirrell, made their way through the traps, and successfully kept the Stone away from Professor Quirrell long enough for me to arrive and resolve the situation,” Dumbledore continued. “And this was my quandary. How kind of reward is appropriate for saving a priceless relic from a traitor, at risk of great harm to themselves? I admit, my first thought was House Points, enough to win Gryffindor the House Cup, but there is a reason why we have Heads of Houses. Professor Snape, the Slytherin Head of House, convinced me that it would send the wrong message – after all, we do not wish our students to risk their lives for the House Cup.”</p><p>A quiet murmur began in the Great Hall – what was Dumbledore getting at, then? If Slytherin had won, why wasn’t the Great Hall decorated to celebrate it? </p><p>“Instead,” the Headmaster announced, “Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley have each been awarded a Special Award for Services to the School, to be kept in our trophy room. In recognition of their detective work, their teamwork, and their outstanding courage in the face of danger, to you three I say, thank you.”</p><p>The Hall erupted into applause. Even the Slytherin table had people politely clapping, Harry noticed, though Malfoy looked quite displeased. After almost a minute, Dumbledore raised a hand the hall fell silent once more. “You all have noticed by now that the Great Hall lies bare. Let’s fix that, shall we? Congratulations, Slytherin! You have won the House Cup!” He clapped his hands once, and suddenly a great green banner hung behind the teachers’ table, adorned with the silver Slytherin snake. Green and silver stretched across the walls merrily, and the candles floating in the air burned green for several moments.</p><p>The Slytherin table erupted into cheers, and it was the Gryffindor table’s turn to clap politely as Professor McGonagall shook Professor Snape’s hand, both of them wearing tight smiles.</p><p>As the feast magically appeared on the tables, and the people around him praised him and his friends, Harry reflected. The Hall may have been green and silver, but the people in Gryffindor seemed quite pleased to put the past several weeks of shunning behind them. Ever since Harry, Hermione and Neville had lost one hundred and fifty points that night, getting Norbert the dragon to Ron’s brother Charlie, they’d all been ostracized. </p><p>Harry blinked in realization – Neville! He looked out at the other boy, who was looking down at his plate, staying quiet as he ate. Harry bit his lip – Neville probably thought that while Harry and Hermione had managed to get their way back into Gryffindor’s good graces, he was still there. And considering that Neville had only gotten in trouble in the first place to try to save Harry that night, it just didn’t sit right with him. Maybe it was time to tell the truth about it? What truth he could, anyway. </p><p>“Ya know,” Harry began, and suddenly the people around him quieted, to hear what he was saying. “Did you guys ever hear the truth about why we lost those hundred and fifty points a few months back?” </p><p>“For sneaking out after curfew, right?” Seamus answered. </p><p>“Yeah, but you never asked why,” Harry pointed out. Ron looked at him in surprise, and Hermione kicked Harry’s leg under the table. He gave her a look and then pointedly said, “It’s not like any of us to go out that late, you know. We had a good reason. Just not one we could tell the teachers.”</p><p>Fred and George both leaned closer. “Oh? Something illicit?” one of the twins asked. </p><p>“Try illegal,” Harry replied flippantly, though his heart was racing. Would this work? “But it was to save a friend. I won’t tell you what we were doing, but Neville didn’t have any idea. He was only out to warn us that Malfoy was on to us. Poor Neville got caught by McGonagall, and then Hermione and I got caught by Filch.”</p><p>The twins winced in stereo. “Ouch.”</p><p>“But why didn’t you tell us?” Lavender asked in sheer disbelief. </p><p>Hermione gave her an unimpressed look. “You weren’t listening to us by then. None of you were.” The rest of the table looked appropriately shame-faced at that. “Besides, illegal, remember?”</p><p>Percy looked at him seriously. “What would’ve happened to your friend if you hadn’t acted?”</p><p>Harry glanced at Ron. He wasn’t entirely clear on the legal punishment of dragon smuggling, but Ron knew the whole story and had Charlie for a brother, so he’d be more likely to know. “Azkaban,” Ron said, after taking a moment to swallow his latest mouthful of food. “At least five years. And a very large fine.” </p><p>The whole table winced. Seeing Harry’s confused look, Ron elaborated. “Wizarding prison, mate.” </p><p>Fred – maybe George – put a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Are you sure it was the right choice?” he asked. </p><p>Harry nodded firmly. “It was Hagrid.” </p><p>And just like that, everyone around him nodded in agreement and dropped the topic. Harry knew he’d made the right decision when he saw Dean and Seamus drag Neville into a conversation, and Neville shot him a grateful smile. </p><p>The rest of Harry’s time at Hogwarts passed by swiftly. He and Ron had done well on their end-of-term exams, and naturally Hermione had beaten everyone else in the year. The teachers assigned summer coursework, and the students were warned not to use magic over the summer. Harry split his time between hanging out with Ron, and reading in the library with Hermione, much to the latter’s delight. </p><p>“What’re you reading?” Hermione asked curiously, peering at the copy of Scrying for the Sightless that Harry was pouring over. </p><p>“An introductory book to Divination,” Harry answered absently. </p><p>“You mean, seeing the future?” Hermione asked doubtfully. </p><p>“Some people can, I guess,” Harry replied, “but that’s really advanced. Divination’s about finding information. Like, have your parents ever misplaced their keys? There’s a Divination spell for locating stuff like that, it’s one of the first ones in the book.” </p><p>“Oh, that sounds pretty useful actually,” Hermione conceded. “But what makes them different from other charms?” </p><p>“The book says Divination in general relies a lot on interpretation and the person using it. Like, if you use a charm to change something’s colour, everyone can see it’s that colour, right? Assuming they’re not colour-blind,” Harry amended. “But that example about finding your keys? How would a spell show you that? Would it make an illusion in front of you to show you exactly an image of your keys and surrounding area? Pull on your wand in the direction of where your keys are? Send a ball of light to hover over the keys? Different people using the spell will get different results.”</p><p>Hermione’s eyes lit up. “That sounds really interesting. Can I borrow the book after you’re done? Or do they have another copy?” </p><p>“I think there’s another one. I’ll show you where I got it.” </p><p>After Hermione got another copy of the book and they sat down again to continue their reading, Hermione spoke up again. “Harry? Not that I’m not happy you’re reading ahead, but… why?” </p><p>Harry finished reading his sentence, then sighed. “Because I have a lot of questions that people aren’t likely to answer truthfully. It might take me a while, but I want to find my answers.”</p><p>“Like what?”</p><p>“Like why does Snape hate me?” Harry said simply. “I never did anything to him, I don’t think. Did my parents do something? Did I do something and not know it? He’d never answer me, and my parents are dead so they can’t either. I want to know why, and I want to know what I have to do for him to treat me like any other student. </p><p>“What were my parents actually like? Everyone keeps telling me I look like my dad, with my mum’s eyes, but no one volunteers information until they’re surprised I don’t know it. I had no idea my dad was a Quidditch player until I joined the team. What was my mum good at? What were their favorite foods? Who were their friends, and why didn’t they ever come see me? What did their voices sound like? I want to… I want to know them like people keep assuming I do.”</p><p>Harry gestured at Scrying for the Sightless. “Did you read the introduction? It says that scrying the past is possible. If I get good enough, if I work hard, then… then I’ll be able to see them, to hear them maybe.” It hurt to hear the longing in his own voice. “I know they’re dead, but I want to make them proud, you know? I want to be able to say that I’m proud of my parents for who they were, and that I know they’d be proud of me for who I am. But I don’t know anything about them.” He wiped tears from his eyes and refocused on the book. “It’ll take me a long time, I know. Years, probably. But I’ll find out.” </p><p>Hermione wiped her own eyes, and then laid a hand to rest on his. “I’ll help however I can, Harry.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Day 22 – June 26, 1992</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Harry practices some basic Divination, and meets with Dobby with adult supervision</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had been nearly three weeks since leaving Hogwarts, and honestly, so far, they were the best weeks with the Dursleys that Harry could remember. The Dursleys didn’t know he couldn’t legally use magic over the summer holidays, so Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon went out of their way to avoid him, and Dudley seemed to be worried about getting another pig’s tail, if the way he tried never to turn his back to Harry was any indication. Dudley had tried to get a rise out of Harry a few times, but Harry had hardly noticed – he’d holed up in his room as much as he could, which suited Petunia and Vernon just fine. </p><p>Something seemed to be disturbing Petunia more than usual, lately, though what it was escaped Harry entirely. He  didn’t pay it much mind; he was far too occupied with completing his summer homework, reading ahead about Divination – he’d somehow managed to persuade the Hogwarts librarian, Madame Pince, into loaning him Scrying for the Sightless over the summer, with the promise to pay for it if he lost or damaged it – and, as of ten minutes ago, figuring out his latest mystery. </p><p>A few days prior, Harry had sent Hermione and Ron a quick missive with Hedwig, eager to have some friendly conversation, since he was unlikely to ever get that with the Dursleys. He’d never had anyone to write before, and Hedwig appeared quite pleased to have something to deliver. Harry had asked Hedwig to stick around with Hermione or Ron, if they wanted to write back. Just now, however, Hedwig had returned empty-handed, visibly annoyed with feathers out of place and blood on her talons. </p><p>Harry hurried to help clean her up – he’d catch hell with the Dursleys, détente or not, if Petunia spotted blood in his room – and gave her an owl treat to help settle her down enough to try to get some feedback. Hedwig hopped into her cage easily enough and began to preen her feathers back where they were supposed to be. Harry waited patiently for her to finish. </p><p>Finally, Hedwig seemed to be finished, and turned to face Harry. “Okay, Hedwig, we’re going to start with the obvious, since I don’t want to assume. Did you get in a fight?” Hedwig bobbed her head in an affirmative. </p><p>“With Hermione or Ron?” A bark – emphatic no. Harry took that to mean that their families hadn’t been involved, either. “Another owl, or an eagle maybe?” Hedwig ruffled her feathers. “Sorry, girl, I don’t mean to insult you. I know you can take care of yourself, but if another wizard’s owl was attacking you I ought to know about it.” Seemingly mollified, Hedwig nipped Harry’s ear gently. </p><p>Harry thought for a moment, frowning. “A wizard, then?” Hedwig blinked at him once. “A witch?” Hedwig blinked again. “… Muggle?” A third blink, and Harry got the distinct impression that if Hedwig were human, she’d be rolling her eyes at him. “Not a human then… something like a human?” Hedwig seemed to think on that one a moment, then gave a small bob of her head. That didn’t give him much to go on, but it was better than he had before. “Bigger than me?” A blink. “Smaller, then?” A bob. “Two arms, two legs, like a human?” Another bob. That narrowed it down considerably – to the point where Harry had no idea what it could be. He’d be on the lookout, though. “Wings?” A blink. </p><p>Time to find out how it fought. “Did it fly?” A slow blink – an unsure no. “Did it use magic?” Hedwig bobbed her head sharply multiple times. “Lots of magic, got it. Did it use a wand?” A blink. Huh. Something that could use magic a lot, without a wand. </p><p>“Did he take something you were carrying?” Hedwig bobbed again, this time adding a sharp glare at the window. Harry looked at the window with her, then turned back. “Did he take the letters I asked you to deliver?” A blink. “Something that Ron or Hermione wrote back?” A bob. “Is he close by?” Two bobs this time – very close. </p><p>Harry frowned. “D’ya think he’ll do it again?” Hedwig barked and flapped her wings indignantly. Harry quickly rephrased. “Do you think he’ll TRY to do it again?” She settled, and reluctantly bobbed her head. </p><p>Harry turned to look at the window again, then sat down at his desk and pulled out some parchment. “I don’t like the idea of exposing you to more fights, but it doesn’t sound like he’s after my outgoing mail, and it’d be rude to make it look like I’m ignoring my friends. Do you mind carrying some letters to Ron and Hermione so I can explain the situation?”</p><p>Hedwig hopped down to the desk and nudged a quill, clearly indicating her opinion. </p><p>Harry quickly wrote out the situation, with a warning not to write back as something was attacking Hedwig. He could imagine their responses already, if he met them in person: Ron would swear and promise to ask his dad, while Hermione would already know some adult or other who could resolve the problem or tell him what group to talk to. </p><p>Harry paused for a moment, considering. He finished his second note, then looked at Hedwig. “Hermione would tell me to tell an authority,” he said slowly. “If it were muggles stealing my mail, I’d go to the police, and I’m sure there are magical police, but I don’t know any of them. But Hedwig, you always know where to go even if I don’t put the address on. Could you deliver my letter to magic police, even if I don’t know the proper address?” </p><p>Hedwig cocked her head for a moment, then bobbed her head decisively. Heartened, Harry wrote out a third letter explaining the situation, asking for assistance, and addressed it to “Magical Law Enforcement.” Then he added a quick postscript to his notes to his friends saying he was working on the problem. Hedwig stuck out her leg for the letters, and flew off as soon as Harry had the letters securely in place. </p><p>That was that, Harry supposed. There was nothing more he could do on that problem for the moment. With that done, he decided to have another go at one of the exercises that Scrying for the Sightless recommended for beginners to Divination – one that he could even do at Privet Drive without breaking the underage magic rules. Harry closed the curtains, turned off his light, took off his glasses, and sat cross-legged on his bed. It was as dark as he could make it in the room, with the sliver of light coming in from underneath the door. With that set, Harry set his wand down in front of him and closed his eyes. </p><p>According to the text, there was a bond between wizards and their wands that grew over time, and it was one of the easiest items for a beginner to target with Divination, because it was a physical object immensely familiar to them both physically and magically. The goal was to be able to reliably sense where your wand was, by tracing the bond. As distance was a factor, it was best to start as Harry had: the wand should be within reach, but out of your grasp. </p><p>Ideally, there’d be a partner nearby, moving the wand every so often so the beginner could sense the change, but there was no one at Privet Drive that Harry would trust with his wand. So, Harry did as best he could, trying to feel the magic between himself and his wand. </p><p>This wasn’t the first time he’d tried the exercise. It wasn’t even the tenth. Harry had tried daily since returning to the Dursleys, and he hadn’t made much progress, much to his disappointment. Maybe he, like Dumbledore, lacked the knack for Divination. Or, Harry reminded himself forcefully, maybe he just hadn’t been with his wand long enough. Dumbledore had said that Divination was available as a course in his third year, so most students just getting started would have more than two years bonding time with their wands, whereas he hadn’t even had one full year yet. </p><p>With that thought in mind, Harry focused on his wand, remembering the feel of it in his hand, the thrill of warmth and magic when he’d first grasped it in Ollivander’s shop the previous year, the long practices he’d had getting wand movements down for Charms. He’d never mistake any other wand for his. </p><p>When he had the image of his wand set, he opened his eyes. The text had reminded the reader that every wizard was different, and so too would be their Divination, so it was best to keep an open mind. There were suggestions for testing if the Divination came through for sight, smell, hearing, taste, touch, or instinct – that is, knowledge that didn’t seem to have an identifiable origin. For some people, it came in through multiple senses. </p><p>It was dark. Harry couldn’t see anything at all. Sight was out. He closed his eyes again, ready to test the other senses.</p><p>He breathed in deeply through his nose and released slowly out his mouth. He could not smell his wand. </p><p>He strained his ears, trying to hear his wand. Maybe, since it had a phoenix feather, it would sound like a phoenix? Whatever that sounded like. After several seconds, he still could not hear anything, so Harry moved on. </p><p>He brought his attention to his tongue, keeping the image of the wand in his brain. Could he taste holly? … No. </p><p>Harry moved on to his exposed skin. Did he feel anything unusual? A tugging in his wand’s direction? Anything at all? After a moment, Harry thought he felt a small tingle in his right hand, but it was gone as soon as he tried to focus on it. </p><p>Harry sighed and stopped focusing on the mental image of his wand. Instinct was something that he couldn’t test on his own – he needed someone to move the wand, for Harry to not have any reason to know where it was, to test that. </p><p>He put his wand away and lied down on his bed, disappointed at yet another failure. “It’s okay,” he told himself. “After I’m back at Hogwarts, I’ll be able to talk to the Divination Professor, maybe get some tips. But for now, I just gotta keep trying.” And with that, he gave up for the day and got ready for bed. </p><p>The next day was similar to the day before; Harry made breakfast, went outside to tend the garden, ignored Dudley’s attempts to taunt him – “Don’t you have any friends?” – and retreated to his room afterwards to focus on his studies. There was little else to do, considering that the Dursleys had ensured that he had no friends in Little Whinging, and Harry was still focused on his goal of learning Divination. </p><p>And so, it was with mild surprise that Harry heard a loud knock on the door at half past four. At Petunia’s shout for him to get the door, Harry hurried down the stairs and opened the door. Standing there was a tall black man, dressed quite smartly. “Hello, sir. Can I help you?”</p><p>“Hello, Mr. Potter. I am Kingsley Shacklebolt, an Auror with the Ministry of Magic. I think you’ll find I am here to help you.”  </p><p>“Oh! You got my letter, then?” </p><p>“Yes. May I come in?” </p><p>Harry blushed. “Yes. Right. Sorry about that. One moment.” He opened the door all the way and called back into the house. “It’s for me, Aunt Petunia! We’ll try to stay out of your way!” </p><p>He got silence in return, but Harry knew that he was likely to catch an earful later about bringing a wizard into their house. Suppressing a frown, he guided Shacklebolt to the living room. “Right. So, er, do you mind if we just get to it? My Aunt and Uncle are a bit uncomfortable with magic.” </p><p>“Of course,” the Auror agreed. “So, first, I need your permission to cast some detection spells. It’s possible that someone has added mail-detection wards in order to intercept your incoming mail.”</p><p>“R-Right, yes, go ahead.” </p><p>The Auror waved his wand in a few elegant waves, murmuring too quietly for Harry to hear. When he was done, he nodded. “There are some mail-detection and mail-redirection wards, but they appear to be long-standing – that is, they’ve been here for years. I suspect that Dumbledore put them on when you were young, to prevent someone from taking advantage of how there is no adult wizard to protect you from dangerous mail.”</p><p>That made sense. “Does that happen often? How do I learn how to handle that?” </p><p>“More often that I’d like,” Shacklebolt confirmed. “Cursed packages delivered via owl are an easy – and often hard-to-trace – method of hurting someone. Basic detection spells are taught in Defense Against the Dark Arts, typically in your second and third years of Hogwarts. More advanced ones are taught in your fifth and sixth years. Or at least, they were when I attended Hogwarts. With the constant shuffle of Defense Professors, it might get shuffled around.” </p><p>“I’ll have to look it up when I get back,” Harry muttered. “Boy-Who-Lived and all that rot.” </p><p>“Good plan. For the moment, though, back to your mail issue. My partner at the Ministry is sending an owl to you now, to look for more active interference. It should arrive within the next couple of minutes. You said that your owl gave you some information about the attacker?” </p><p>“Yes, sir. Smaller than me, two arms and legs like a human, but it’s not a human. Apparently uses magic – a lot of it – but doesn’t use a wand.” </p><p>“That narrows it down considerably,” Shacklebolt said after a moment. “Out of curiosity, how did the owl tell you this?”</p><p>“She’s very smart,” Harry said proudly. “I can ask her yes-or-no questions, and she’ll respond by bobbing her head for yes, or blinking for no.” He looked down, suddenly embarrassed. “But I don’t know too much about what kind of things it could be, so that’s all I could think to ask.” </p><p>“You did fine,” Shacklebolt reassured. “It sounds like it’s probably a house-elf, though why one would want your mail I have no idea. Maybe its owner doesn’t like you or something.” </p><p>“What’s a house-elf?” </p><p>“Magical servant. As intelligent as a human, sometimes bound to an individual but usually to a family. Usually a sign of a wealthy family, as they’re rather expensive to acquire.” </p><p>Harry stared at him. “Are they bound… willingly?” he asked carefully. </p><p>“Not always, but it’s a necessity for them,” Shacklebolt admitted. “House-elves are creatures of magic. They literally can’t live without it, and unfortunately their bodies simply don’t produce enough on their own to survive. On the other hand, their bodies are scarily efficient at channeling simple magics, so it takes them a lot less effort to do most things than it would a normal wizard or witch. By binding themselves to wizards or witches, they can get the magic they need to survive by absorbing some of their owner’s magic through the bond. In return, they serve their owners behind the scenes. Cooking, cleaning, transporting…” </p><p>“Simple magics,” Harry concluded, and Shacklebolt nodded. “Can a house-elf break its bond? Is this a rogue?” </p><p>Shacklebolt shuddered. “A rogue house-elf is a disastrous thing,” he told Harry. “A house-elf with no bond has a limited amount of time to live, and knows it. Most of the time, a house-elf will immediately try to bond with another wizard or family, in order to survive, but rarely a house-elf will go mad from the broken bond, and then their moves are nearly unpredictable, and their magic nearly unstoppable. Their magic is simple, not weak. For that reason, when a wizard bonds a house-elf, it’s set up so only the wizard can break the bond. If a house-elf goes mad, then the wizard will be able to force the house-elf to… self-terminate.” </p><p>Harry swallowed uncomfortably.  </p><p>“In any case,” the Auror continued, “it’s almost certainly not a rogue elf.” A loud chime rang outside, and Shacklebolt smiled. “Ah. Looks like our little thief was caught. Let’s go have a look, shall we?” </p><p>Harry followed Shacklebolt outside, and was startled to see… something, wrapped entirely from neck to toe in ropes on the ground, thrashing and trying to get free. Its green head was exposed, with large floppy ears and enormous eyes. Upon seeing Harry, it immediately stilled. “Harry Potter?” </p><p>Harry glanced up at Shacklebolt, and Shacklebolt nodded at him. “That’s a house-elf. He’s bound in ropes that inhibit magic. He’s not going anywhere, and it’s safe to talk to him. See what you can find out.” </p><p>Harry, still feeling uneasy, nodded back and stepped closer to the house-elf. “Well, you obviously know who I am. Who’re you?” </p><p>“Dobby, sir. Dobby the house-elf.” </p><p>“Okay, then, Dobby. I’m given to understand that you’ve been keeping my letters from me.” </p><p>Dobby’s ears dropped. “Dobby has, sir.” </p><p>“Did your master tell you to do it?” </p><p>“No, Harry Potter sir. Dobby is not supposed to be here. Dobby will have to go iron his hands later in punishment, but Dobby had to!” </p><p>Harry cocked his head to one side. “Why’s that?” </p><p>Dobby shook his head in sorrow. “Dobby had hoped that if Dobby kept Harry Potter sir’s letters from him, then Harry Potter sir would not feel like he had friends at Hogwarts, so Harry Potter sir would not go back to Hogwarts this year.”</p><p>“But, but why?” Harry exclaimed, dumbfounded. “I love Hogwarts. I’m a wizard, I have to go back. I need to learn magic!” </p><p>“Harry Potter sir does not know!” Dobby cried out mournfully. “There will be great danger at Hogwarts this year! If Harry Potter sir goes back to Hogwarts, he will be in mortal danger!” </p><p>“What, again?” Harry blurted stupidly. </p><p>“Again,” Dobby confirmed. “Dobby heard tell that Harry Potter sir faced He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named mere weeks ago, and escaped again. Is it true?” </p><p>“Yeah, but that’s why I have to go back!” Harry insisted. “Dumbledore knows more about it, but Voldemort –”</p><p>Dobby’s head thrashed. “Oh, speak not the name!” </p><p>“Fine, You-Know-Who is still around, and not many people know, and…” Harry caught a brain-wave all of a sudden. “And if he comes back, I’ll need all the magical training I can get. He’s going to come after me if he comes back, we all know it, so I can’t afford not to go.” </p><p>Dobby bit his lip. “Harry Potter sir speaks truth… but Harry Potter sir will be in mortal danger at Hogwarts…”</p><p>“Can you tell me anything about the danger?” Harry asked reasonably. “Look, there’s an Auror right here, if you have any information then we can stop this whole thing before it starts.” </p><p>Dobby sighed, his ears drooping again. “Dobby cannot betray his master’s secrets.” </p><p>Shacklebolt stepped in then. “Allow me, Mr. Potter. I have some experience with situations like this one.” </p><p>Harry was glad to step aside – he wasn’t entirely sure where to go from there as it was. Dobby, on the other hand, looked more uncertain. “Dobby has been given orders not to go to the Aurors without permission, and to keep his master’s secrets…”</p><p>“But you didn’t come to me,” Shacklebolt reminded him. “I came to you. Have you been given orders not to talk to us without permission?” Dobby brightened a bit, and shook his head no. “Excellent. Dobby, I am Auror Shacklebolt. I will not force you to reveal your master’s secrets, but that doesn’t stop me from guessing them, does it? If I already know the secrets, you haven’t betrayed them.” </p><p>“Dobby… Dobby supposes so…” </p><p>The Auror smiled. “Let’s start with an easy one. Will the danger target Harry Potter specifically, or many people?”</p><p>“Many people, sir.” </p><p>“Without betraying your master’s secrets, is the danger already at the school?”</p><p>Dobby hummed for a moment, apparently weighing if it qualified as a secret. “Yes, but the danger sleeps.” </p><p>Shacklebolt nodded. “Without betraying your master’s secrets, can you tell me the nature of the danger?” </p><p>Dobby frowned, and shook his head no. </p><p>“That’s fine,” Shacklebolt acknowledged easily. “Now, allow me to tell you my thoughts so far. Your master has something to do with danger that’s coming to Hogwarts. He cannot be a teacher, as none of the teachers in the school, save perhaps Professor Snape and Headmaster Dumbledore, have the ability to afford an elf. Even if they did, there is little point, as Hogwarts has many house-elves there at the staff’s command. Since I know he cannot be a teacher, can you confirm that?”</p><p>“Yes, Auror Shackleybolt is correct. Master is not a teacher at Hogwarts.” Dobby smiled. </p><p>“Very good. So, as your master is not a teacher at Hogwarts, and the danger sleeps at Hogwarts, there must be a mechanism of waking it up. As your master cannot be in Hogwarts without permission, he must send that mechanism to someone at Hogwarts capable of using it. Since I know this, can you confirm that?”</p><p>Dobby’s smile grew. “Yes, Auror Shackleybolt.” </p><p>“A delivery to Hogwarts is generally done in four ways. Personally, by arriving at Hogwarts with permission. Via mail, using an owl. Via meeting, during a Hogsmeade weekend. And via proxy, by having a staff member of student bring it in themselves to deliver. Portkeys cannot be used to travel to Hogwarts without being made by the Headmaster, and foreign house-elves are monitored by the Hogwarts house-elves, so those methods of delivering the mechanism are not applicable. Therefore, I know that your master must be using one of the four delivery methods I stated.”</p><p>“Yes, Auror Shackleybolt.” </p><p>“Without betraying your master’s secrets, would the danger continue to sleep if we cancelled Hogsmeade weekends?” </p><p>“No, Auror Shackleybolt.”</p><p>“Without betraying your master’s secrets, would the danger continue to sleep if we vetted the staff for dark items and had each of them monitored closely by a Hogwarts house-elf?” </p><p>“No, Auror Shackleybolt.”</p><p>“Without betraying your master’s secrets, would the danger continue to sleep if all incoming mail was closely inspected for dark items or enchantments?”</p><p>“No, Auror Shackleybolt.” </p><p>Shacklebolt grinned a shark’s grin. “By process of elimination, I know that your master must either deliver the mechanism personally, or else give the mechanism to a student to bring into the school. As your master would not want to risk being seen with the mechanism, he must be arranging for a student to bring it into the school. As I know this, can you confirm it?”</p><p>Dobby’s grin was just as manic. “Yes, Auror Shackleybolt. You is clever. Dobby is glad he was caught by you.” </p><p>“Thank you, Dobby. The solution is simple, then. When the Hogwarts house-elves bring everyone’s possessions to the school, we’ll do an inspection for dark items during the Sorting, so no students can be harmed by it. That will identify the mechanism, and we can then destroy it. Should we do this, will the danger continue to sleep?”</p><p>“Yes, Auror Shackleybolt! Yes, yes, yes!” </p><p>“So is there any reason to continue withholding Harry Potter’s letters?”</p><p>“No, sir!” </p><p>Shacklebolt waved his wand, and the ropes surrounding Dobby vanished, revealing that he was wearing a… pillowcase? Harry only had a second to see it, though, as Dobby immediately snapped his fingers, making a handful of letters appear in Harry’s hand. As Harry blinked in surprise, Dobby bowed low to him and Shacklebolt, and squeaked out, “Dobby is so grateful that he met brave, loyal Harry Potter sir and clever Auror Shackleybolt! Dobby hopes he can help you again someday! Dobby will listen for your call! Oh, master is going to be so mad!” He sounded absolutely delighted by the idea.</p><p>And before Harry or Shacklebolt could say anything further, Dobby snapped again, vanishing. They stood there for a few seconds, processing, before Shacklebolt clapped a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Well, that’s that. Looks like your mail issue is resolved, and I have one heck of a report to make. What’s it like, knowing that even random house-elves know your name?” </p><p>Harry groaned. “Don’t remind me.” </p><p>“By the way, what was that about You-Know-Who still being around?” Shacklebolt asked casually. </p><p>Harry blinked, then smacked his face. “I did say that, didn’t I.” </p><p>“You did. Now, tell me.” His voice was suddenly stern, authoritative. </p><p>Harry did as he was told, detailing the events surrounding the Philosopher’s Stone, but omitting his visit with the Morrigan. “Dumbledore said that I should keep Voldemort’s involvement to myself,” he finally concluded. “He said he was going to consult with the Department of Mysteries.” </p><p>Shacklebolt was quiet for a minute, processing what he’d been told, before he sighed and relaxed. “Dumbledore’s a good friend of mine. Checking with the Department of Mysteries makes sense, I just wish he’d told me too.”</p><p>Harry had no idea what to say to that, so he just shrugged awkwardly. “Sorry?”</p><p>“Not your fault, kid. Don’t worry, I’ll keep it to myself. I’m just going to brush up on any magic that works on ghosts and poltergeists. With any luck, they’ll be effective on him too.” </p><p>Harry’s eyes widened. “When do we learn about those? Peeves is a menace!” </p><p>Shacklebolt laughed. “I’ll write down a jinx or three for you to try out when you get to Hogwarts.” </p><p>“Wicked.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Days 22-51</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Harry confronts Aunt Petunia and learns more about his wand.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b>Night 22 – June 26, 1992</b><br/>
Harry had expected his Aunt Petunia to lay into him immediately after Shacklebolt left, but much to his surprise, she hadn’t said anything at all for hours. That said, when Petunia came into his room later that evening, after Dudley and Vernon had gone to bed, Harry figured that it had been inevitable. He’d been expecting a reprimand for letting a wizard into their home, but when she spoke, her voice sounded carefully disinterested as she stood in the doorway. </p>
<p>“That was your kind’s police, then?” </p>
<p>“Yes, Aunt Petunia.”</p>
<p>“Hmph. I’d have appreciated a warning.” </p>
<p>“Sorry, Aunt Petunia, but even I didn’t know if they’d arrive, or when they would. All my mail was being blocked.” </p>
<p>Petunia gave him a suspicious look, but didn’t push the issue further. “So, what was this about a house-elf?” </p>
<p>Now it was Harry’s turn to squint at Petunia. “Er… I thought you didn’t want me to talk about… my world… here?” </p>
<p>“And you’ll remember that when your Uncle or your cousin are here,” Petunia said severely. “But what that Shacklebolt fellow said about a house-elf sounded like it could be useful.”</p>
<p>Ah. Now Harry saw what she wanted. Shacklebolt had said that they were especially good at simple magics, and in return for the magic to survive, they cooked, cleaned, did chores… all the things that they’d previously had Harry do, before he’d gone to Hogwarts and become a wizard who, from their perspective, might have every reason to use magic on them. She wanted a replacement, who could become invisible with magic, so she could appear to have the perfect house without lifting a finger. </p>
<p>Harry opened his mouth to say that he didn’t see why he should get one for her, but another thought interrupted. She didn’t have the magic to supply a house-elf, so she couldn’t support one anyway. But if he had a house-elf, then he’d have someone who could protect him with magic, when he couldn’t do it over the holidays. “Aunt Petunia,” he said slowly, “Shacklebolt said they need, er, magic to survive. Even if I did get a house-elf, it would be bonded to me, and I wouldn’t be able to just give it to you. But I could probably tell it to listen to you. If you’re okay with that, I can ask around and see where to get one?” </p>
<p>Petunia hummed for a moment, apparently considering. Finally, she began to speak again. “You’ve been quieter since you came back,” she said, confusing Harry. Why was she changing the topic? “You don’t go out anymore. You don’t fight my Dudley. You’ve focused on your studies in a way that I wish that Dudley would.” She sounded a bit bitter about that last part. </p>
<p>Harry bit his tongue to stop himself from snarking that Dudley was the one who constantly tried to fight him. She was obviously trying to go somewhere with this, and he was dead curious where it was. </p>
<p>“Before you came back, Vernon and I were concerned that you’d use your… magic to… to do things. To lord it over us, like your mother and father, and that boy,” she hissed. </p>
<p>Harry wanted desperately to interrupt, to say that there was no way his parents would have been like that… but he didn’t know. He wanted his parents to have been people who wouldn’t do that, but he didn’t know them. He swore again to keep practicing his Divination. One day, he’d be able to see for himself. </p>
<p>“But you haven’t. You don’t use magic at all, even in jest. You don’t even talk about it without being prompted. You’ve been… respectful of our wishes to keep it out of our lives as much as possible,” Petunia continued haltingly. “Unlike before you went to that school.” </p>
<p>Harry couldn’t keep quiet at that. “Those weren’t my fault,” he told her. “I didn’t even know magic was real, back then.”</p>
<p>“Regrowing your hair was an accident, then?” Petunia asked sarcastically. </p>
<p>“Yes!” Harry affirmed with a mixture of exasperation and frustration. “My kind calls that accidental magic. Kids do it all the time if their emotions are too strong. If we’re afraid, or mad, or anything like that, then magic happens and tries to fix the situation. It’s not something we can control until we go to school to learn how!” </p>
<p>“And what part of your haircut made you afraid?!” Petunia scoffed. </p>
<p>“I was already laughed at in school for the clothes and glasses!” Harry shot back. “I was scared they’d have another reason to laugh at me! I liked my hair the way it was, but it’s not like I knew I could grow my hair! I didn’t know magic even existed, let alone how to control it. You and Uncle Vernon did a great job preventing me from suspecting a thing. Besides, I still haven’t even learned a spell for regrowing hair, so it’s not like I could’ve done it on purpose. It’s accidental for a reason.”</p>
<p>Petunia looked taken aback for a moment, then rallied. “Why would they have laughed at your clothes and glasses?” she asked caustically. </p>
<p>“Maybe the fact that you kept dressing me in Dudley’s old things, when they didn’t fit right?” Harry replied just as angrily. “And Dudley kept breaking my glasses so I kept having to tape it back together, because you and Uncle Vernon kept saying that I was an ungrateful drain on your resources! It’s not my fault that my parents died! It’s not my fault that I was given to you! It’s not my fault that I’m magic! And I’m sorry that you weren’t given money to take care of me, because kids are expensive and you obviously didn’t plan for me, but that’s not my fault either!”</p>
<p>Petunia gaped at him, but Harry wasn’t done. Now that he’d started getting these feelings off his chest, he couldn’t stop. It was like a dam of angry, hurt feelings from his whole life had opened and he couldn’t close it up again, the way the words kept spilling from his mouth. “It’s not my fault that you kept lying to me about who my parents were or how they died! It’s not my fault that I got scared and mad like any other normal kid! It’s not my fault that I couldn’t explain what I didn’t know because you wouldn’t tell me anything and wouldn’t reach out to someone who did know! It’s not my fault that you didn’t like my parents! And it’s not my fault that you don’t love me!” </p>
<p>Petunia took a step back, hands reaching up to cover her mouth in shock. Rebellious tears fought to leave Harry’s eyes, and his lungs heaved with effort as he tried to bring himself under control, but he just couldn’t. “I tried, I tried so hard to be what you wanted me to be when I was growing up,” he whispered, his chest tight as his vision swam. “I would’ve done anything for you to love me, back then. For even a sign that maybe one day you could. But you never did. And you never will. Nothing I do will ever change that. You’ve made that clear enough. So I’m going to do my best so you never have to see me again. I’m going to do well in school, figure out a job in my world, and you’ll never have to see me again. So please, Aunt Petunia. Leave me alone. If getting a house-elf and having it listen to you while I stay here is the cost of that, fine. I’ll figure it out. Just leave me alone.” </p>
<p>Petunia fled, and tears finally escaped Harry’s eyes. He didn’t fall asleep that night so much as pass out, exhausted, in the wee hours of the morning. </p>
<p><b>Day 36 – July 10, 1992</b><br/>
It had been two weeks since that confrontation, and Harry hadn’t seen much of Aunt Petunia since then. She never met his eyes, or spoke to him, and he went out of his way to avoid her in turn. Honestly, Harry didn’t know what to do. Getting all of that out had changed things between them, that’s for sure, but it had left the situation awkward. He couldn’t wait to get away on September 1. </p>
<p>Finally having a chance to go through the handful of letters that Dobby had intercepted, Harry had found out that Ron had pulled through and found who all had sent him sweets at the end of his first year. While Harry had half-expected the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and the rest of the first years in Gryffindor, Harry had been surprised to have been gifted some by people he didn’t even know. His hand had ached a little when he was done writing all the thank you notes, but Hedwig had been most pleased to have so many letters to deliver. Harry suspected she had been pretty bored at Hogwarts. </p>
<p>He was sending mail to Hermione and Ron a few times per week, and had struck up a friendship with a Hufflepuff in his year named Susan Bones. She’d been one of the people who had gotten him some get-well candy at the end of last term, and much to his surprise, had replied back with something beyond a generic “you’re welcome”, expressing interest in getting to know him better. They’d spent the last couple of letters explaining the basics, like favorite dessert (treacle tart for Harry, plum pudding for Susan), favorite and least favorite classes at Hogwarts (they both loved Charms and were interested in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and thought Snape was awful), and so on. </p>
<p>At present, Harry was at his desk penning another reply. Susan had asked how Ron and Hermione came to be his friends after such a visibly rocky start between them, and shared that she’d had a lot of trouble making friends until she got to Hogwarts. </p>
<p>
  <i>Susan,</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I didn’t really have friends until Hogwarts either. It’s pretty lonely, isn’t it? My cousin was a lot more well-liked in my community, and he dislikes me intensely. Ron and I shared a compartment on the Hogwarts Express on the way to Hogwarts, and it sounds silly, but we bonded over being nervous to go to Hogwarts, and over the sweets from the trolley. I was just grateful to have someone who enjoyed my company. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Hermione’s a longer story, but do you remember the troll on Halloween? Hermione didn’t know about it, since Ron had been a bit of a berk and made her cry after she did better than him in Charms. He’s apologized for it, since! But anyway, Hermione was still crying in the girls bathroom, so she didn’t know, so Ron and I snuck out to go get her. Unfortunately, the troll was in the same bathroom as she was. We were able to distract the troll until Ron levitated the troll’s club over its head and knocked it out. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Hermione and Ron came to an understanding, and she became our friend</i>
</p>
<p>Harry paused, thinking of what he wanted to say. </p>
<p>
  <i>As for why I haven’t really tried to make more friends… I have trouble reaching out. I guess I’m too used to being disliked, so I tend to keep to myself. Doesn’t help that most of the school hated me after the time that Hermione, Neville and I lost Gryffindor 150 points in a single night. We had good reasons that I’m not going to go into, but I don’t regret it. It’s not like we would have won anyway, with the way Snape gives and takes points. If Gryffindor had been too close to Slytherin, I’m sure he would have found reasons to take points off of me or Neville. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>What about you? Did you find any good friends at Hogwarts? Hopefully it didn’t need a troll! </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I have so many questions about the wizarding world. I got an unexpected visit from a house-elf a couple of weeks ago – first time I’d ever heard of one, let alone met one, so that was rather odd. My aunt and I are curious about them, though. She’s a Muggle, so I’m pretty sure she can’t bond with one, but are they common? Am I expected to have one when I’m older? </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Hope your summer is going well! </i>
</p>
<p>Harry signed it, and set it aside for Hedwig to take when she woke next. He’d been keeping her very busy over the last couple of weeks, so he didn’t begrudge her rest. </p>
<p>That done, he looked back at his wand – never far from his sight – with a troubled frown. Unfortunately, Harry had had zero luck with divining his wand. He was really getting worried. </p>
<p>Harry opened up the copy of Scrying for the Sightless again, and flipped to the second exercise. Maybe he just had a block that he could work through back at Hogwarts? It couldn’t hurt to try a different exercise, right? Harry read on, and was relieved to see that the next exercise was meant as the opposite of the first – instead of isolating his awareness to locate something specific, the second exercise was to send his awareness outwards, to let his magic act as another sense. </p>
<p>The book indicated that beginners would be able to detect magic in the vicinity. With a little practice, a beginner could potentially identify that an item was magical. As one progressed in this skill, they would be able to pick up more nuances about the magic, and eventually be able to identify what the magical effect was. That sounded pretty useful, in Harry’s opinion. </p>
<p>As the exercise suggested, Harry set up a circle of knick-knacks, interspersing magical items in a bunch of non-magical ones. Using some of Dudley’s old toys for the main part of the circle, Harry included a couple of Chocolate Frog cards, his invisibility cloak, and his wand. Standing in the center, Harry closed his eyes, spun in place until he was no longer sure where the magic items were, and sat down. He breathed deeply, and focused his thoughts on wanting to know what magic was near him.  </p>
<p>Much to Harry’s surprise, he immediately felt a tingling sensation in his brain, not unlike an ice cream headache, though not nearly as painful. He was suddenly, instinctively sure that just to his right was his invisibility cloak. His wand was just behind him, to his left, he was almost positive. And he wasn’t quite sure about the Chocolate Frog cards, but they were in front of him, a little to his left. </p>
<p>Keeping his eyes closed, Harry reached out with his right hand, and was exhilarated to feel the almost-too-smooth fabric of his Invisibility Cloak. Boldened, he reached out with his left, and grabbed his wand easily. </p>
<p>Harry stopped and opened his eyes. His wand felt quite different in his left hand, actually. Was that odd? He had no idea. He turned the wand over in his left hand a few times. It… didn’t fit the same way. He could feel it, somehow. It wasn’t just a physical discomfort – there was something magical going on. Carefully not saying anything at all, Harry awkwardly made a wand movement with his left hand. It felt weird, and wrong, and… was that… Was Harry’s wand sulking? About being used in his left hand? </p>
<p>It was kind of odd to think of the wand as having likes and dislikes, but honestly, Harry wouldn’t be surprised. Wands used the cores of magical animals. For all he knew, that gave them a limited sort of awareness. Murmuring an apology to the wand, Harry passed the wand back to his right hand, and immediately felt the wand warm briefly in his right hand, as if affirming that yes, this was the right way. </p>
<p>“Okay then…” Harry muttered. His wand was alive, sort of. Good to know. Next time he visited Diagon Alley, he was definitely going to go talk to Ollivander again. But for now… Harry bit his lip. Maybe the problem was that he… somehow didn’t know his wand well enough? If it was alive, it might have opinions on what it wanted to be used for. Ollivander had said that certain woods and cores were especially good for certain things, but Harry didn’t think the wand maker had clarified what holly and phoenix feather specialized in. If he had, Harry certainly didn’t remember it.</p>
<p>Putting everything away, Harry got out yet another scrap of parchment – wow, he was definitely going to have to buy more soon – and wrote a quick letter to Ollivander, asking him for anything he’d be comfortable sharing about holly and phoenix feathers, or for a reference so he could find out for himself. Hedwig was out delivering his previous batch of letters, so he’d send that out when she returned. </p>
<p>In the meantime… well, Harry had figured out how to communicate with Hedwig. Maybe he could do something similar with his wand? Turning from the table, Harry held his wand in the right hand and looked at it. “So, er, I didn’t know you were alive before. Sorry. Now that I know, I’d like to figure out how to communicate with you. I don’t know much about wands, or holly, or phoenixes, so I’m not sure if talking to me is something you’d be interested in. Ollivander said that wands can be really good at certain things, and I want to get to know you better.”</p>
<p>The wand vibrated a bit in his hand, and Harry got the impression that it was amenable to some questioning. </p>
<p>“Oh! You can talk to me like that! That makes this a lot easier. Thanks.” Harry got out yet more parchment for note-taking, and began his questions. </p>
<p>In the end, Harry discovered that while his wand could communicate, it didn’t have much to say. It was enthusiastic about casting magic in general, and didn’t much care what kind of magic it was, though it seemed particularly interested in protective magic like shields and wards, and healing magic. Transfiguration, illusions, charms, hexes, jinxes, curses, divination… every kind of magic that Harry asked about, the wand seemed eager to try it. </p>
<p>When asked about its components – holly wood, phoenix feather core – the wand seemed indifferent, as if to say “I am what I am.” It did appreciate good maintenance practices, though, so Harry made a point of getting out some wand polish and cleaning it. The wand hummed in satisfaction. </p>
<p>Harry thanked it for all its help – no harm in being polite – and put his wand away. He’d try divining it later, but for the moment he needed some time to process. Apparently, he was not complete pants at Divination. His wand was alive, but didn’t particularly care what kind of magic he used. And… Harry eyed his trunk, where his invisibility cloak was kept. Unless he’d misunderstood something during his Divination exercise, Harry’s cloak had more magic than his wand. But why? </p>
<p><b>Day 51 – July 25, 1992</b><br/>
Two more weeks had passed since Harry’s breakthrough in Divination. Much to his absolute delight, Harry had succeeded, easily, in his next attempt at divining his wand. His wand had positively glowed in the dark for him, and Harry could see the tendril of magic connecting him with his wand, which was fascinating to look at. He liked to repeat the exercise nightly, just to look at the bond. </p>
<p>Ollivander had replied, expressing satisfaction that someone was showing an interest in wandlore. Holly wands were typically good at protective and healing magics, and were thought to repel evil in general. Phoenix feather wands were very picky about their wielders, and tended to specialize in purification, healing and protection, but were nevertheless exceptional at nearly every kind of magic. </p>
<p>When Susan’s tawny owl flew in, Harry was once again divining his wand and his bond to it, this time watching while practicing his wand movements. He’d wanted to see what the movements did to the wand’s magic, or the flow of magic from himself to his wand, but Susan’s letter took priority. He stopped divining, set his wand down, and offered the owl a treat and some water. Hedwig was out delivering to Ron and Hermione, so she wouldn’t mind. But Harry had to wonder what had taken Susan so long. He’d begun to wonder if he’d somehow scared her off. </p>
<p>
  <i>Harry, </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Sorry for the late reply! I didn’t want to reply until I had some answers to your questions, and it’s hard for me to get those answers sometimes. I live with my aunt, Amelia Bones. She’s the Director of Magical Law Enforcement, so she’s always busy, but it was especially bad this last week. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Becoming friends with a boy over sweets is pretty typical. I don’t know what I expected. But a troll? Really, Harry? You became friends with Hermione after saving her life from a troll? Your life is pretty crazy!</i>
</p>
<p>Harry couldn’t deny that, not one bit. </p>
<p>
  <i>I did make friends at Hogwarts. Hannah, Justin and Ernie at Hufflepuff, and I’m hoping I can count you now. They’re good people, but they don’t really understand the pressure I’m under. Because my aunt is the Director, and I’m just a kid, I’m at risk of being used against her, so I’m always stuck behind wards in my home, or under escort. It’s smothering. At Hogwarts, I’m free from all that. I hope it’s like that for you too. I can’t imagine dealing with the kind of fame you have to live with. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>We have a house-elf, too. Auntie says that while a lot of old families have one or two, it’s not really something you have to have. It wouldn’t have surprised me if your parents or grandparents had house-elves before You-Know-Who rose to power, but no house-elves would have survived ten or eleven years without bonding with another family. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I asked Auntie why more families don’t have house-elves, and she said that bonding a house-elf to your family is hard. It’s not just a matter of buying one, there’s magical power involved. She called it a down payment – proof that the family can provide the magic needed for the elf to survive for a long time. There’s a shop in Diagon Alley that unbonded elves stay in, living on the excess magic in the air in exchange for keeping the Alley clean. I’m sure they can answer any more questions you have. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>After your letter arrived, I realized that I owe you an apology for the way my fellow Hufflepuffs and I treated you last year. You’re right, it wasn’t fair that we took our frustrations out on you. If we didn’t want Slytherin to win the House cup, we should have stepped up to do it ourselves. Although I agree, Snape wouldn’t let anyone but his snakes win. So unfair. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>But anyway. I’m sorry we treated you so badly. I hope we can get past it back at Hogwarts? </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Also, I can’t believe I didn’t ask this before, but did you want anything for your birthday? I’m sure you get swarmed every year, but it’d be nice to get you something meaningful this year. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Susan</i>
</p>
<p>Harry blinked, and immediately replied. </p>
<p>
  <i>Susan,</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>My life IS pretty crazy! I’m hoping it’s simpler this year at Hogwarts. No trolls, no Philosopher’s Stone, no forbidden third floor corridor! Just a nice, simple year, that’s all I want. Wait, I take that back. A nice, simple year without Snape sniping at me. That’s all I want. I wonder who the Defense Professor will be. Have you gotten the supplies list yet? </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I’m glad you’ve got good friends at Hogwarts, and I’m happy to call you a friend too! We should figure out when we can hang out at Hogwarts after we get our class schedules. Also? Apology accepted. Thanks. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Hogwarts is my escape from life with the Dursleys – my Muggle relatives. They’re not particularly comfortable with magic. I love it at Hogwarts, though the fame is a big pain. I sometimes feel like all people see is the scar, and not me, you know? I just want to be a normal boy at Hogwarts. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Thanks for letting me know about the house-elf stuff. I will definitely drop by when I’m shopping for my supplies. I’d like to have as much information as I can before I talk to Hermione about this – a sentient race purposely serving wizards is hard for Muggle-raised to accept. It definitely makes me a little uncomfortable, even knowing that it’s for their survival. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>What do you mean, “swarmed every year”? I never got a present that wasn’t from the Dursleys until I got to Hogwarts. Come to think of it, I never got a letter from anyone in the wizarding world until I got my Hogwarts letter. Maybe it’s the mail wards? I’m told Dumbledore set them up when I was a baby and didn’t have an adult witch or wizard to go through my packages for cursed stuff, so maybe they were oversensitive? </i>
</p>
<p>Not likely – Dumbledore probably set it up to reject or redirect magical stuff, since the Dursleys hated magic, but Harry wasn’t about to say that. </p>
<p>
  <i>As for gifts, I have no idea what to ask for. I love to fly, so maybe something for my broom? </i>
</p>
<p>Harry’s eye flicked to his wand, remembering the “conversation” he’d had with it and Ollivander’s reply. </p>
<p>
  <i>Or maybe something about protective or healing magic? Ollivander said my wand is supposed to be good for those, but I have no idea when that’s taught. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>What about your birthday? When is it, and what sort of things do you like for your birthday? </i>
</p>
<p>Harry signed it and gave the letter to the tawny owl, who had apparently been waiting for him to finish. “Thanks for waiting,” he told it, and gave it another treat. “Have a safe flight.” </p>
<p>The owl hooted an affirmative and took off. But before Harry could pick up his wand again, there came a knock on his door. He paused. This had never happened before. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia never bothered to knock, and just came inside. Dudley preferred to bang on the door and be a general nuisance. Whoever it was knocked on his door again, and Harry swallowed. “Come in.” </p>
<p>The door opened, revealing Aunt Petunia. “Can we talk?” Her voice was softer than Harry usually heard it. </p>
<p>Harry froze in his chair, watching her and flicking his eyes back at the doorway. He really, really didn’t want to talk to her, but he wanted even less for her to complain to Uncle Vernon. “Yes, Aunt Petunia,” he answered quietly, not meeting her eyes. “But I’m not sure what there is to talk about.” </p>
<p>They both knew it for the lie it was, but Petunia merely nodded. She sat on Harry’s bed, and stayed quiet for a minute, gathering her thoughts. “Our argument, that night…” she trailed off briefly, before trying again. “You gave me a lot to think about. I reached out to… an old friend of your mother’s. He confirmed what you said about accidental magic. That it happens when you’re afraid, or angry, but there’s no way you could have controlled them.”</p>
<p>Harry nodded, not knowing what to say to that. </p>
<p>“I’ve spent the last few weeks thinking about the past, and observing, with that information in mind,” Petunia went on. “And it came to me that if I can’t attribute your incidents as malicious, then… then I never gave you a fair chance. I was afraid, and I was so sure that I needed to squash the magic from you. You’re right, I didn’t like my sister before she died. But I did love her. She was my sister. We were close, once, before she was taken away by your world. Before she was killed by your world.” </p>
<p>She was rambling a bit, but Harry listened intently. </p>
<p>“You are my sister’s son,” Petunia said heavily, some combination of long-held bitterness and nostalgia coloring her voice. “You’re all I have left of her now. And it’s bittersweet. Because you look exactly like the boy she married, the boy who took her away for the final time. But then I see your eyes, and I can almost see her in them. And just like her, you knew exactly what words to use to pierce my heart. You were right. The way we treated you was never your fault. You did deserve better.” She closed her eyes. “I’ve spent all this time hating you for what you represented, and trying to tear you down so I could build up Dudley. Because I felt like my parents forgot about me when Lily became a witch and could do magic. I wanted to get even, somehow. </p>
<p>“It wasn’t your fault,” Petunia reaffirmed. “All these years, we’ve done poorly by you, because we hated and resented you for things you couldn’t control. And I fear it is far too late to fix. I doubt you’ll ever trust me with your heart again. Even if you did, I need to spend my time trying to put Dudley back on the right path. He’s learned all the wrong lessons from the way we treated you, and if I don’t work on correcting them, he’ll get himself locked up.”</p>
<p>She glanced at Harry’s face, and snorted when she saw his utterly unsurprised expression. “I’ve got years of work to undo,” she said aloud. “But so little time.” She stood up from the bed. “Thank you for listening, Harry. I want you to know that I’ll do my best to respect your wishes, and leave you alone. God only knows you deserve that much. Good luck with Hogwarts. Please try not to get yourself killed like my sister.” </p>
<p>She left, closing the door behind her, but Harry sat in silence for a long time after.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Day 56 – July 30, 1992</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Harry meets with Uncle Vernon, and they reach an understanding.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The last several days had gone by in a haze, Harry reflected as the time ticked steadily towards his birthday. While Petunia hadn’t actually apologized, she’d admitted that she had been wrong all of those years. It had thrown him for such a loop that he’d barely been able to function at all, half-expecting to wake up and find it had simply been a dream. That it had been the product of subconscious wishing, somehow. </p><p>But after the second day went by, and then the third, Harry had the dull realization that it had actually happened. True to her word, Petunia had left him alone. She didn’t even call him for chores. Instead, he got to hear Dudley whining and pleading about being forced to go tend the garden, and then hear Petunia scolding him for making a mess of it. </p><p>Said argument was occurring – again – in the garden right now, actually, and Harry could hear them outside his window. “But Mum! You always make Harry do this!” </p><p>“And Harry’s actually studying so he’ll be a productive member of society one day,” Petunia snapped. “He’s done this task for years, so obviously you should be capable as well. I won’t have my son unable to maintain his house when he’s grown up!” </p><p>Harry didn’t catch what Dudley mumbled in response, but he did hear his cousin’s yelp of pain a moment later. </p><p>“You will watch your language!” Petunia scolded her son. “I am your mother, and I will not tolerate any such disrespect! You will take as long as you need, but there will be no telly until the task is done!”</p><p>Harry heard the front door open and close, and marveled. She was actually trying, and making Dudley do a couple of chores. Physically demanding ones, too – probably an attempt to get his weight under control at the same time. He must have crossed into a parallel world or something. Even so, he wasn’t looking forward to Dudley complaining to Vernon; while Dudley had never tried to pit one parent against the other before (he’d always succeeded at pitting both of them against Harry), it would occur to him sooner or later to see if Vernon would save him from what had historically been Harry’s chores.</p><p>Knowing his luck, Vernon would probably just open his door in a towering rage and accuse Harry of “doing something unnatural” to his aunt. As a matter of fact, that sounded entirely too like him to dismiss. Harry looked around his room in concern. Would it be better to stand his ground and threaten him with magic? Vernon didn’t know that Harry couldn’t use magic over the holidays. But if Vernon was angry enough to try to manhandle him anyway, that could backfire badly.</p><p>Harry bit his lip in indecision. There wasn’t much he could do if Vernon decided to get physical. And he’d never be able to change Vernon’s mind if he decided that Harry was at fault for Petunia’s changed behavior. So… he should probably try to keep it from ever reaching that point. How to do that, though… </p><p>Harry glanced out his window at where Dudley was sitting in the garden, glumly pulling at weeds. Should he go down and help? Minimize Dudley’s involvement? No, that would be going counter to Petunia’s wishes. Maybe feign ignorance? Maybe something like “I don’t know what’s going on, Uncle Vernon. Aunt Petunia told me to stay in my room unless called.” Hmm. Not bad. He might be able to suggest it’s because of Harry and his magic, but that Petunia was doing her best to protect everyone from it. Vernon would buy that. Probably. </p><p>But it’d only work if Harry kept anything overtly magical from being out in the open, while at the same time appeared to be completely busy. Not an easy combination to reach, in his room. His best bet was probably revising his homework around the time that Vernon got home every day. It struck him, then, that the Dursleys would probably be responsible for some of the best magical homework that Harry had ever turned in, and the sheer irony of it gave him a fit of the giggles. </p><p>After pulling himself together, Harry opened Scrying for the Sightless again. The book had highly suggested practicing the first two exercises frequently, in order to improve one’s confidence in the skills and to reduce the time and mental effort needed to allow his magic to carry information directly to his mind. It was colloquially called “Activating the Sight” in England, since vision was the most common sense that Divination magic was interpreted with. The process used to be called “Opening the Third Eye”, but that apparently fell out of fashion in recent decades, though the book neglected to mention why. Harry got the distinct impression there was a joke he was missing. </p><p>In any case, Harry had followed the book’s instructions, and spent a not-insignificant amount of time focused on improving his times instead of moving to the third exercise. These days, Harry barely needed to focus for a second to know where his wand was, and he was in the process of learning more about his invisibility cloak so he could divine that as well. He’d really been in a bind when he’d lost his cloak after the Norbert incident, after all. </p><p>Regarding the second exercise – sensing magical objects – Harry had worked his way up to sensing them from his doorway. He’d wrap his wand in a sweater, stand in the doorway, close his eyes and toss the bundle into his room gently. Then he’d practice sensing magic to find and pick them the bundle without missing. It took him a few seconds to flip the mental switch to sensing magic, but he was getting faster at it.</p><p>Overall, Harry thought he was well enough prepared to at least look at the third exercise, so he flipped past the first two and began reading. It appeared that this one came highly recommended for those with familiars; the task was to divine the connection between master and familiar, and then compare it against the bond between wizard and wand. There were differences in the way magic flowed, the book stated, and the exercise was useful for beginning to learn how to interpret the way that Divination presented itself. </p><p>Harry frowned pensively – he’d have to have Hedwig here to practice that one consistently, and she was nearly constantly out delivering letters these days. Unless… could he divine her from far away? Distance was obviously a factor, considering that the very first exercise had involved keeping the wand just out of reach. Unless… was that because no wizard would purposely leave their wand far beyond their grasp? Merlin, he wished he had a teacher to ask, but he’d completely forgotten to ask Dumbledore who it was back when they were in Hogwarts, and it seemed silly to send an owl just to ask about that. </p><p>After spending a minute thinking on it, Harry decided he’d try it both ways. He’d wait for a good chance to practice with Hedwig in person first, to see if the exercise worked at all, then see if he could do it with some distance between them. Hedwig was delivering another pair of letters to Hermione and Ron, and Harry didn’t expect her back until the next day. </p><p>With a sigh, Harry pulled out his invisibility cloak to study it some more. The soft, fluid, silvery fabric seemed simple enough, but Harry knew there was more to it. He knew that the cloak had more magic than his wand – his Divination had shown him that repeatedly. But it didn’t make sense. His wand was a focus for casting every kind of spell, whereas an invisibility cloak was designed for one thing – making things invisible. Unless… did the cloak draw on his magic while it was in use? If it didn’t, maybe it stocked magic from the air, and used that to power itself? Did the invisibility have limits? </p><p>Harry closed his eyes for a few seconds, and when he opened them, he had the Sight active. He stared intensely at the cloak. He watched how the magic seemed inactive, and tried to get a sense for how much magic it currently had. Once he was fairly certain he had a grasp of it, he put the invisibility cloak over himself and watched as it abruptly sparked to life magically. He didn’t feel any drain on himself, and the cloak didn’t seem to be losing magic. But then, how was it powering the invisibility? Wait… Harry knew that wizards regenerated magic over time. Maybe his regeneration rate was more than the cloak’s drain rate? </p><p>Harry took off the cloak and eyed it consideringly. What would happen if he placed the cloak on something nonmagical? Like his chair? Deciding to find out, Harry draped the cloak over his chair, and watched the chair vanish. He stared at where he knew the cloak was, gauging its magic… no, it still wasn’t losing any magic. Could the cloak regenerate its own magic? Was it sort-of alive, like his wand? </p><p>He picked up the cloak, and put it back over himself, watching the magic flow through the translucent fabric for a few moments. “Er, I’m still learning about these things, but I found out my wand has a consciousness, and I’m curious if the same goes for you.” </p><p>The cloak did not respond in any way that Harry could discern. </p><p>“I was told that you were my father’s, once. He’s dead now.” </p><p>The cloak rippled slightly, but Harry wasn’t sure if that was just from his breathing. </p><p>“I want to learn more about you, if I can. Do you have a way to communicate?” At the silence, Harry sighed and took off the cloak. He wasn’t sure what he expected, honestly. He’d been lucky enough that his wand seemed to understand him and could send impressions back. </p><p>Harry shook his head as he folded up his cloak and put it away. Uncle Vernon would be home soon, anyway, so it was best to tidy up. After he’d put away everything except his summer homework and his Potions text for revising, Harry snuck a quick peek outside. The garden looked… better. Not done to Aunt Petunia’s standards when Harry was the one cleaning, but it was better than it had been this morning. Huh. Dudley had actually worked at it. </p><p>Looking at his Potions text in distaste, Harry reluctantly sat down and began to revise his essay. He was right in the middle of it, too, when Vernon bellowed for him to come downstairs. “Coming, Uncle Vernon!” he called. </p><p>Harry came down the stairs at a careful speed he’d cultivated through the years – not so fast as to imply eagerness, not so slow as to seem reluctant. “Yes, Uncle Vernon?” </p><p>The whale of a man eyed him suspiciously, but could not find fault with Harry’s attitude. “You’ve been hiding in your room since you got back from your blasted school. Good. It’s about time you figured out how to stay out of trouble.”</p><p>Harry carefully said nothing, and kept his expression schooled. </p><p>This was apparently the right move, as Vernon continued. “Tomorrow is important to both of us. We will be hosting an important dinner party tomorrow night, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay up in that room.” </p><p>“Yes, Uncle Vernon.” Harry had zero intentions of disobeying THAT order. The less he had to deal with from the Dursleys, the better. </p><p>“That said…” Vernon seemed to struggle for a moment. “Your Aunt seems to believe that you ought to be rewarded for good behavior. There’s been none of that unnaturalness since you returned. Apparently that freak school is good for something. In any case, should tomorrow go smoothly, I will take you up to London on Saturday for your school supplies. We’ll leave at 9:00 a.m. and I’ll pick you up at 4:00 p.m.”</p><p>Harry only took a second to figure out how to react. He nodded and said sincerely, “Thank you, Uncle Vernon. I’ll do my best to keep quiet. My friends from school will probably send me gifts, but I promise that it won’t disturb you. But I do have one problem, Uncle Vernon.” </p><p>“What is it?”</p><p>“My school supplies list hasn’t been issued yet. I’ve asked my friends, and they all agree it’s terribly late this year. Apparently, the Headmaster is having trouble filling a teacher’s position. But we do expect the supplies list any day now. If it arrives tomorrow, I’d appreciate it if you could take me on Saturday like you planned. Otherwise, can we wait until next week?” </p><p>Vernon harrumphed. “Trouble finding a teacher, eh? What happened to the last one?”</p><p>Harry looked down. “Dead, sir.” </p><p>“What, got too old? Accident?” Vernon watched Harry sharply. </p><p>Harry repressed the urge to swallow, trying to keep his face neutral. Telling his Uncle that he was the one that killed Quirrel was not something he wanted to do. But lying was out of the question. Was there a midway point, where he told the truth but left that important part out? “He was… possessed. By an evil spirit. The man who killed my parents. My Headmaster found out and set up a trap. Professor Quirrel didn’t survive.” Good enough. </p><p>When Vernon remained silent for several seconds, Harry dared to glance up at him. His uncle looked vaguely thoughtful, much to Harry’s surprise. “Did the trap work?” </p><p>“No, sir,” Harry’s gaze drifted downwards again. “The spirit was too cautious, and managed to escape.”</p><p>“Hmph. Any chance it’ll come after us?” </p><p>“I don’t think so, sir. The Headmaster would have warned me. But I’m learning what I can in order to track him.” </p><p>“Going to do your part, huh?” For once, Vernon’s voice was almost entirely unreadable. Harry swallowed as nervousness began to rise in him. This was unfamiliar, Vernon never did this, they never had cordial conversations like this. Harry would have felt so much better if Vernon would just bluster or get so mad that his face turned red and screamed at Harry. That was at least something he was used to, something he knew how to handle. Vernon wasn’t supposed to change his behavior! </p><p>“Y-yes, sir.” Harry hated how his voice stuttered. “I want to help track him down, and make sure he’s gone for good.” </p><p>“And how will you go about that?” Vernon’s voice remained unreadable. “And look at me when I’m talking to you, boy.” </p><p>Harry swallowed again, and raised his eyes to meet his uncle’s. His face was stern, but searching. He was looking for something, but Harry had no idea what it could be. “Er, Uncle Vernon, I thought you didn’t want to know anything about… my kind. Or what we can do. You don’t like me talking about it in your home.” The unstated question: Am I going to get in trouble for answering you? </p><p>Vernon nodded, slowly. “You’re right. I don’t like you talking about it. But there are exceptions to almost every rule, boy. My parents taught me, when I was about your age, that uncomfortable topics must be brought up sometimes. That they’re uncomfortable because they’re important. And that people need to put aside their discomfort when it comes to the most important things.”</p><p>Harry was so shocked he almost forgot to breathe. Vernon was… this was first time in Harry’s memory that Vernon had ever tried to impart some wisdom upon him. </p><p>“I’m willing to set aside my discomfort about… magic… because there is something more important. So. Boy. Harry. Tell me.” </p><p>“I…” Vernon’s look was intense. In a different way from Snape’s glares, or Voldemort’s cruel gaze. Harry gathered up his wits and began again. “I’m learning a branch of magic called Divination. It specializes in information gathering. Voldemort – the man who killed my parents – has a number of items that are keeping his spirit tethered to our world. I’m learning how to find those items so the Headmaster can destroy them.” </p><p>Vernon chewed on that for a minute. “Why you? Why isn’t your Headmaster using an adult?” </p><p>“He’s looking for one, but Diviners – the people who are really, really good at Divination – aren’t really trusted by my kind. Almost impossible to keep a secret from a Diviner who wants it bad enough. So, no one advertises it.” </p><p>“Hmph. Something wizards fear. I’ll remember that. How long will it take you to get good enough at Divination?” </p><p>“Years,” Harry said simply. “There’s a course I’ll be able to take next year, but I’m reading ahead and practicing what I can.” </p><p>“And you think your Headmaster will still need you then?” </p><p>“Even if he doesn’t, I have other reasons to learn Divination. I won’t have considered my time ill spent.” Harry smiled at the thought of seeing his parents as they truly were before their death. </p><p>“What other reasons do you have?” </p><p>Harry’s smile became brittle and sharp as he looked at the man who, with his wife, had lied to him for years and years, about Harry’s parents, about magic. Who had squashed every attempt to ask questions while growing up. Harry wanted this conversation over – he’d answered Vernon’s questions. But Vernon didn’t get to try to connect to him now. Not after ten years of misery and unjust punishments and so much more. Just remembering those times left him feeling a cold, hard pit in the depths of his chest. Vernon wasn’t family. Harry didn’t owe him any answers; he’d been nice enough to answer so far, but Vernon had no right to demand his heart. “Private ones.” </p><p>“Tell me.”</p><p>Harry weighed his chances, and decided. “No, I don’t think I will.” </p><p>Vernon’s eyes narrowed with a hint of anger. Ah, good, back to familiar grounds. “Why not?” </p><p>“Because I’ve never been part of the family,” Harry told him, his smile completely dropping in favor of replying with cold, hard, inarguable truth. “You and Aunt Petunia have made that clear for as long as I can remember. And as you always shown me growing up, refusing to answer, or lying, is fine when it’s not to your own family. My reasons are private.” </p><p>Vernon stared at him for a long, long minute, emotions flashing across his eyes. “Your Aunt and I brought you into our home,” he began.</p><p>“And treated me as a second class citizen, punishing me for things that I couldn’t control, never given any kind of explanation, never taken on family trips if it was at all avoidable, kept in a cupboard under the stairs for ten years while Dudley had two bedrooms,” Harry interrupted, his voice calm and collected under the numbing influence of that cold, dark pit in his chest. His emotions seemed further away, detached almost, and it felt good to simply acknowledge the truth. “At what point was I acknowledged as family, Uncle Vernon? Besides, of course, when it would make you look abnormal not to.” </p><p>Vernon stilled. After almost thirty seconds without an answer, Harry continued onwards, that yawning pit inside him growing a little colder, a little wider. </p><p>“As you don’t have an answer, I don’t have a reason to tell you anything that personal. I’ll tell you the same thing I told Aunt Petunia, though. I intend to do well in school, find a job, and leave. You’ve never wanted me here, and I don’t want to be here. As soon as I’m able to support myself, I’m gone, and you’ll never see me again. You’ll get to tell everyone that I died, like the no-good hoodlum you always claimed I was. You’ll be rid of the last connection to magic, and get to be perfectly normal indeed.” </p><p>Vernon stared at Harry as though he’d never seen the boy before. Harry had no idea why, though. Wait, maybe he simply wasn’t used to Harry speaking plainly around him? Harry supposed that it was rather unusual for someone to talk plainly about being unwanted. But the idea of making Vernon uncomfortable, of hurting him with words alone, the same way that Vernon and Petunia had hurt him all those years, appealed to Harry so greatly that it was simply irresistible. </p><p>“What, is this an uncomfortable topic?” Harry asked quietly. “I thought we were being frank with each other. Putting aside our discomfort when it comes to the most important things, and all that. Let’s just be honest with each other. You’re not concerned about me; you’re concerned that I’m going to make enemies who will come after you and your family to get to me. Perfectly reasonable, you’re not magical, and you’ll have a hard time defending yourself from them. Let me reassure you, I don’t claim you as family either. And nothing that I value has come from you, so there’s no ties to you in that way either. You’ve done such a wonderful job keeping me out of the picture – literally!” </p><p>Harry pointedly looked at every picture in eyesight, all of them showing Dudley, Petunia, Vernon, or some combination of them… but never Harry. “There’s nothing here that would give it away! And you’ve given me no reason to claim you either! And as soon as I’m gone, that long, dark chapter of your lives will be over. You should rejoice! I’m giving you exactly what you wanted. Who knows, maybe Voldemort will track me down and kill me, and then you can tell the truth when you tell your coworkers that I died young and stupid, just like my parents. At least I won’t burden a normal family like yours with my misbegotten spawn. Good riddance, right?” </p><p>“Shut up.” </p><p>“Hmm?” Harry looked back at Vernon quizzically, noting that Vernon’s face was almost white with… something. Rage? Pain? Guilt? Harry couldn’t tell. “Why? It’s actually quite liberating to put the truth out there like this, I ought to thank you.”</p><p>“Shut your fool mouth, boy!” Vernon snarled. </p><p>“What, did I say something you haven’t?” Harry asked faux-innocently. “Have I misquoted you or Aunt Petunia? Made you out to be something you’re not? I thought you wanted an uncomfortable talk. I’m just putting together all the things you’ve said over the years. Things you thought I didn’t hear, or didn’t care if I did. Oh, let’s take tomorrow in, too. Your family is hosting someone you’re trying to impress, but you don’t want me anywhere near it. I bet they don’t even know I exist, but they do know about your son Dudley! Your actions speak more than loud enough, Uncle! I’m an embarrassment to your family! No, wait, that’s not accurate. The fact that I exist, and can be associated to you, is an embarrassment to your family! Because I’m magic, and you care more about an accident of my birth than you do me as a person! What a great uncle you are! Any boy would be happy to have you as family!”</p><p>Vernon’s slap nearly sent Harry to the floor, but Harry staggered back upright, holding his cheek with triumph and vindication coloring his eyes and voice. “And so violent too,” he whispered. “Look at that, you’ve done more on purpose to hurt me my whole life, than I ever did to you or any of your family. Am I supposed to learn that from you? Am I supposed to hurt you physically because you hurt me with your cruel words? Is that the lesson I’m supposed to take from you? Dudley’s already got that down pat, I bet.” </p><p>“Get out!” Vernon roared. “Get out of our home!” </p><p>“Glad to. Give me ten minutes to pack and I’m gone. Can’t wait to hear the neighborhood gossips tomorrow,” Harry shot back, ugly and mocking, before pitching his voice to mimic a few of the gossips in question. “‘Hey, what’s that Potter boy doing on the street with a giant bruise on his face and fat lip?’ ‘That’s never happened before. He’s only 12, what kind of people would throw him out of the house?’ ‘Wait, you don’t think that Vernon…?’” Harry turned on his heel and began making his way up the stairs. “I wonder how that’ll affect your dinner party tomorrow!” </p><p>Vernon said nothing, and Harry quickly threw his belongings into his trunk – what belongings he had out, in any case. He’d never really unpacked. He opened his door and began steadfastly walking down the stairs. When he got there, Vernon was sitting in his favorite chair, holding his head in his hands. Harry ignored him, and walked towards the door. </p><p>“Harry.” It was Petunia’s voice, calling him from the kitchen. Harry stopped. </p><p>“Aunt Petunia.” </p><p>“Please. Stay. We can talk this out.”</p><p>Harry’s defiant resolve began to deflate, and the cold spot in his chest began to thaw, leaving him drained, exhausted. Why was he so tired? They’d only been talking. </p><p>Didn’t matter. It was time to go. Harry turned to face her, purposely showing where his cheek was already beginning to bruise. “I don’t think we can. I was lying to myself when I thought I could stay here for five more years. It’s too easy to want to hurt you the way you hurt me.” He glanced at Vernon. “I lost my temper. Took it too far. I probably should’ve stopped after I threw not being family in his face. We could’ve finished the conversation peacefully then, I reckon.” </p><p>“That would’ve been the kind thing to do,” Petunia agreed. “But believe me, I understand bitterness.” </p><p>Her comment struck Harry as funny, in that moment, and he huffed out a bitter laugh. “Let me guess, mum never did things like that.” </p><p>“Oh, no, she was just as vicious when the mood took her,” Petunia disagreed. “We both were. She just had less to be bitter over, so she didn’t show it as much as I did. As I still do.” </p><p>Harry felt… he didn’t know. Grateful, maybe, that Petunia had divulged something of what his mother was like, something that didn’t depict her as some perfect specimen of humanity. Frustrated with himself, because he knew he could be better than how he’d acted, and he didn’t want to act like Petunia. He’d seen firsthand where that led to. </p><p>“Stay,” Petunia asked again. “Sit down, and we’ll talk, the three of us. Even if you have a place to go, do you know how you’d get there?” </p><p>That was… a distressingly valid point. Harry let go of his trunk and slowly made his way over to the couch, sitting down on the far end. Petunia took the other side, giving Harry as much space as she could. “So, what happens now?” Harry asked quietly.</p><p>“When your mother and I were growing up, your grandmother would sit us down and have us try to calmly explain why we felt the way we did, and then we’d work together to figure out what we could do about it,” Petunia told him. “The first step is making sure we understand each other. Harry, as I understand it, you’re bitter and angry because we never told you the truth about magic, kept punishing you for things you couldn’t explain or control, and never treated you as family. You’re frustrated because we wouldn’t answer any questions about your parents, depriving you of knowing them even in the abstract. Anything else?” </p><p>Harry shook his head. “I just want to move on. I don’t want to live someplace I’m not wanted. Home is supposed to be a sanctuary, right? A place where you’re loved, wanted and appreciated? I’ve never felt that here. I want to find home. I’ve given up on ever finding it here.” </p><p>Petunia nodded. “And that’s why it didn’t bother you when Vernon told you to get out.” </p><p>Harry shrugged. “I’m honestly sorta surprised you guys even showed up to pick me up from the train. You made your feelings clear in that shack, and when Uncle Vernon left me while mocking me about not being able to find the right platform in London. My best guess is that it would look weird if I never came back from school, and you were scared of the questions you’d get.”</p><p>Petunia’s lips thinned, but she nodded again. “You and Vernon were having an amicable conversation, but something changed when he brought up taking you into our home. Can you tell us what you were feeling then?” </p><p>Harry didn’t have to think hard. “Resentment, mostly. If Uncle Vernon was willing to have uncomfortable conversations because there are more important things, then why didn’t you ever tell me the truth about magic? I would’ve done my best, you know, if you’d talked to me about it when I was younger. But from my perspective, I felt like I was being punished because of impossible things I couldn’t explain. I don’t understand how you expected me to somehow know the truth already.” He shook his head. “I’m getting off-topic. But I felt like neither of you cared about my feelings at all, like I wasn’t a person. So why should I care about his feelings? I wanted him to hear things that wouldn’t let him sleep, make him question if he was a good person. I wanted him to feel like a freak.” </p><p>Both Petunia and Vernon flinched at the last word. “Well, mission accomplished, boy,” Vernon grunted. “Petunia, I don’t want him in our home. He may have his reasons, but I don’t want him to use that acid tongue on Dudley.”</p><p>“Not going to say I wouldn’t if he pushed hard enough, but I do have less reason to go after him,” Harry pointed out. “If Dudley leaves me alone, I’d be happy to leave him alone too. That said, I agree with him,” he followed up, jerking his head at Vernon as he looked at his aunt. “I don’t want to be here either.” </p><p>“Unfortunately, we don’t have much choice in the matter,” Petunia said heavily. “When you arrived on our doorstep, the letter that Dumbledore provided with you made it clear that you need to be able to stay under our roof. There are wards protecting you and our family from Voldemort and his followers as long as you reside here. They expire when you turn seventeen. Dumbledore would just bring you back here for your own safety.” </p><p>Harry frowned. He hadn’t known that Dumbledore was the one who placed him with the Dursleys. He’d remember that. “That explains why he wasn’t concerned about Voldemort coming after me this summer,” he mused aloud. He looked at his uncle. “I’d rather not get Dumbledore involved, if we don’t have to.” </p><p>“On that, we agree, boy.” </p><p>Petunia let out a sharp sigh. “Now that we’re on the same page, we need to figure out how to coexist. Vernon, what would you need to feel comfortable – if not happy – about Harry staying in our home? Take your time and think about it.”  </p><p>Vernon shifted in his chair, looking up in consideration for a good minute. Following Petunia’s lead, Harry remained silent, watching Vernon gather his thoughts. After another two minutes, Vernon nodded to himself and refocused on Petunia. “Most of what I would need, the boy’s already doing,” he admitted. “I would need Harry to stay out of the way, and keep magic to a minimum. I would need him to stay away from Dudley where practical. I would need him to find out how long he needs to stay in our home every year, and do his best to make alternate arrangements for any time not required. And I’d need him to keep his words civil.” </p><p>Petunia nodded. “Harry, would you have any problems with any of that?” </p><p>Harry leaned back into the couch and thought about it for a minute. “Can you elaborate on staying out of the way? Like, I can stay in my room most of the time – that’s not a big deal – but will I be able to go outside if I need to stretch my legs? Do I need to eat at different times from you?”</p><p>Vernon grunted. “I don’t care what you do while I’m at work. But after I get home, I want you to stay in your room except for dinner and necessities, within reason. As you said, you’re not part of the family, and on weekdays the time after I get home is the only time I get with mine. For weekends, you can come and go as you please. It would put a burden on Petunia for you to eat at a different time, so eating together is fine.” </p><p>Harry nodded. “About keeping magic to a minimum… I am studying, you see, so is it fine as long as I keep anything magical in my room?”</p><p>“That’s fine,” Vernon waved off. “Now, boy, what do you want in return?”</p><p>Harry frowned. He’d been thinking about that, too, going over the worst memories of his time with the Dursleys. “I’d need Dudley to stay away from me and my things. I don’t want to be punished if Dudley comes after me while I’m trying to get away from him. I’d also want some understanding if something unusual happens that I couldn’t have helped, and if something does happen, I’d want to be able to talk about it like we’re doing now and given a chance to explain. I’d like it if some of the rumors that have spread about me over the years locally were put right, but I don’t strictly need it, since I’m not staying here longer than I have to.” A thought occurred to him, suddenly. “And I don’t want anything to do with Aunt Marge. She and her dog hate me, and if she lets Ripper chase me up a tree again, or if she starts badmouthing my parents or me, I won’t hold back.” </p><p>Petunia and Vernon shared a look. “We… had considered having her stay with us for a time next summer,” Petunia said slowly. “But he’s not wrong, Vernon. She really does hate him, and… your sister doesn’t really have a filter.” </p><p>Vernon nodded, just as slow as Petunia had spoken. “At the same time, she’s going to want to spend time with Dudley, and she’s very forceful. However, figuring that out is none of the boy’s business. Anything else, boy?”</p><p>Harry shook his head. “Only that if I’m in the middle of something magical in my room, that I not be disturbed. I can put up a note on the door or something, or whatever you like.” </p><p>“I’d prefer something more discreet,” Petunia interjected. “I have some spare hair ties. Leave one on the doorknob if you don’t wish to be disturbed. Actually,” she continued thoughtfully, “that sounds like a good practice to have in general. Dudley is getting close to that age…” </p><p>Vernon huffed a laugh. “Fine, fine. We’ll all get into that habit, then.” Then he turned to look at Harry, leaning forward in his chair. “So, in summary… you keep to yourself and keep your magic to yourself, and keep us informed on when you can leave. We keep Dudley out of your room, talk to you like this if something happens, and keep Marge away from you entirely. We all start leaving hair ties on the doorknobs if we don’t wish to be disturbed. And if something changes, any of us can ask to have another sit down like this. Are we agreed?” He extended his hand.   </p><p>Harry nodded, and grasped his uncle’s hand, shaking it once. “Agreed.” </p><p>“Good.” Vernon leaned back into his chair. “Let me know when your supplies list comes in. We’ll schedule a time to go up to London then.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Days 57-65</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Harry goes shopping for his second year, and chooses to avoid Lockhart's book signing.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b>Day 57 – July 31, 1992</b><br/>
After the draining events of the previous night, Harry wasn’t surprised when he woke particularly late on his birthday, nor when he felt particularly tired and unmotivated despite how long he’d slept. He supposed it was to be expected, when one cast away impossible childhood dreams. He’d never expected to ever be family with his relatives, but he’d held onto some glimmer of hope over the years, that somehow their relationship would improve to the point where they didn’t mind spending time with each other. So that he could pretend. Last night, Harry had shattered that hope once and for all. </p><p>Mechanically following what had become his routine, Harry tidied his room and went through his Divination exercises again. He was a bit slow today activating the Sight, but all said and told he thought that could be forgiven, considering that his heart wasn’t really in it today. Harry let out a mirthless chuckle at the irony. His birthday, and he felt more lifeless than he could remember being in quite some time.</p><p>That said, he perked up when, shortly after lunch, three owls arrived at very nearly the same time. First was Errol, the elderly Weasley family owl, who collapsed immediately on landing. Harry quickly removed his parcel and set him to rest for the flight back in Hedwig’s cage. Before he could open Ron’s gift, though, Hedwig returned, presumably from Hermione. She landed on Harry’s desk, expertly delivering her package. Right on her tail, though, was Susan’s owl, whose name Harry still didn’t know. As there was no space left on his desk, he delivered his parcel to Harry’s bed, and then flapped up to the windowsill to wait for a reply. </p><p>Glancing at his mail and packages, Harry took a moment to decide which one to tackle first. Seeing Hedwig giving Susan’s owl a stare, Harry decided it was probably best if he nipped that problem in the bud. He opened Susan’s present, and smiled when he saw a book, titled Medical Maladies and Afflictions: An Introduction to Mediwizardry. Exactly what he’d wanted. Setting it aside, he read the letter Susan had attached. </p><p>
  <i>Harry,</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Happy Birthday! Thanks for the tip about your wand supposedly being good for healing! I never would’ve thought of it. What’s your wand made of, by the way? </i>
</p><p>
  <i>The supplies list still hasn’t arrived, and it’s making Auntie worry. The Headmaster is having more trouble than expected finding help – competent or not – this year for the DADA position. Don’t tell anyone, but Auntie says that the curse on the position is quite real; Professor Dumbledore hasn’t been able to retain a DADA professor in more than two decades, and that’s so statistically unlikely that the curse is almost certainly real.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Any poor sod who agrees to the position has little choice in the matter, thinks they can beat the curse, or has no sense at all. Or some combination thereof. If Dumbledore can’t find someone soon, the Ministry might have to step in. I’m not sure if that would be good or bad, if I’m honest. </i>
</p><p>Well, when she put it like that, Harry almost felt sorry for whoever was going to end up taking it.</p><p>
  <i>Now, about the fan mail situation, oversensitive wards on a Muggle residence seems entirely plausible. I hadn’t considered that it’d be entirely too easy to curse you with a letter without a wizard or witch screening your mail. Just so you know, my family’s house-elf takes care of that for me, so that might be a good workaround, since you can’t cast at home legally. In any case, if I’m any indication, the general public isn’t aware that you haven’t received any mail. You might want to write to the Daily Prophet and say so, just so people don’t think you quite rude for ignoring their letters. </i>
</p><p>Harry grimaced. That made too much sense. But the house-elf tip was pretty good. Yet another reason to look into getting one.</p><p>
  <i>As to my birthday, it’s October 15. Chocolate is always a safe bet, but I’m sure you’ll have some ideas after we get back to Hogwarts. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Susan</i>
</p><p>Taking a moment to mark his calendar with Susan’s birthday, Harry glanced at Errol – still sleeping – and Hedwig, who was staring at him intently. Eager to get her judgmental stare off of him, Harry immediately unwrapped Hermione’s present. It was, to his complete lack of surprise, a book. But as soon as he saw the title, he was glad he was sitting down. “Divining History, by Bathilda Bagshot,” he whispered. “Oh Hermione…” He felt a wave of grateful admiration towards his best female friend. Of course Hermione would think of Divination’s power to view the past and think of history books. The author of Hogwarts, A History was the obvious choice to look into. </p><p>Setting it down, Harry opened Ron’s gift – a box of Chocolate Frogs – and set out to writing his thank you letters. Susan’s owl took off as soon as her letter was ready, but Errol was still recovering, and Harry had another letter to write. </p><p>It took Harry the better part of an hour to figure out how to politely explain the situation without making it sound like anybody was particularly at fault. Ultimately, he settled for this:</p><p>
  <i>To Whom It May Concern,</i>
</p><p>
  <i>It’s come to my attention that I may have missed a number of letters and presents over the years. After the events that left me an orphan, I was placed under my Muggle relatives’ care. As they did not have a way to identify malicious magical packages, let alone protect me from them, some mail wards were placed to prevent communication from unknown wizards and witches, though I don’t know all the details. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>I’ve been told that this was not public knowledge, so I want to apologize for any hurt feelings caused by my lack of response. Any letters or presents sent to me prior to entering my first year at Hogwarts, I haven’t received. I assume they’ve been redirected somewhere. I’ll be following up with the ones who set up the mail wards, to see what’s become of them. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>The mail wards at my home have not been modified, as I can’t legally perform magic at home to handle letters of unknown origin safely, so please bear with me as I try to figure this out. I should be able to receive letters at Hogwarts once term starts, if someone needs to get ahold of me. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>I know it’s a lot to ask, but could you post something in the Daily Prophet to explain my situation? If you need to send a letter back, my owl will wait for you. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Sincerely,<br/>
Harry Potter</i>
</p><p>Harry sighed as he finished signing his letter, then folded it up. “Alright, Hedwig. Got a slightly longer task for you. You ready?” Hedwig gave a low bark, jutting out her leg challengingly. “I need you to take this one to the Daily Prophet first,” he told her, attaching the letter before reaching for his thank you note for Hermione. “If they say they need to send something back, wait for them. Either way, when they’re done, take this one to Hermione, and wait for her response.” He finished attaching his thank you note. </p><p>Hedwig nipped his ear affectionately and then took off. The flutter and shuffling noises woke up Errol, who sleepily extended his own leg. Harry quickly gave him the thank you note for Ron, and Errol was on his way shortly thereafter. </p><p>Harry glanced at the clock – it was mid-afternoon. In a couple of hours, Vernon would be home, and then the dinner party. With a groan of annoyance, he pulled out his Transfiguration homework and texts for some additional revising. It was only afterwards, when Harry set it aside, that he remembered that he’d been waiting for Hedwig to return so he could practice his Divination with her, and now she was going to be gone for who knows how long. Swearing under his breath, Harry promised himself he’d remember next time. </p><p>The rest of his day passed by uneventfully. Petunia brought some dinner upstairs before the Masons – Vernon’s dinner guests – arrived, and Harry ate quietly in his room, and dutifully kept quiet. He spent the time reading the opening chapter of Divining History, and then just went to bed early. </p><p><b>Day 58 – August 1, 1992</b><br/>
Harry was quite surprised to receive an owl during breakfast, startling Petunia and Vernon quite badly. “Sorry, sorry!” Harry apologized, even as the owl dropped a neatly tied bundle onto the table before flying away. “I don’t even know whose owl that is!” </p><p>“Well, find out!” Vernon growled. “Owls during breakfast…” </p><p>Harry quickly opened the bundle, revealing a newspaper. “<i>The Daily Prophet</i>,” he read aloud. “I don’t remember subscribing to the news…”</p><p>Petunia let out an amused snort. “Looks like some things stay the same, even in that world,” she commented, poking at Vernon. By the way Vernon was unable to suppress a wry smile at her, it must have been a private joke. Harry decided not to ask. </p><p>“Well, I suppose that’s something. At least they have the decency to deliver the news right to you, instead of making you go out to the curb,” Vernon grumbled. “Well, go on, boy. Anything worth knowing?” </p><p>Harry opened the paper, and was taken aback to see the headline. <i>Potter Apologizes</i>, it read. “Seriously? It made the front page?” </p><p>Petunia looked over his shoulder, and then stared at Harry, letting him know in no uncertain terms that he had better explain. </p><p>Harry groaned. “Alright, so one of my friends pointed out that I’m rather famous in my world, and asked about my fanmail.”</p><p>That got Vernon’s attention. “You? Famous?”</p><p>“For surviving the wizard who killed my parents when I was just a baby,” Harry explained shortly. “Anyway, as you know, I don’t get fanmail here. I never got mail, growing up. And, well, my friend suggested that I might want to explain that so people don’t think I’m a git for never responding to them. Problem is, I wouldn’t know who to explain to, since I never received their mail to begin with. So my friend suggested writing the paper.” He gestured at it. “I didn’t expect to make the front page. And I really didn’t expect the paper to send me a free copy.”   </p><p>Belatedly, Harry remembered that his apology included the reasoning that he couldn’t legally perform magic at home, and he quickly rolled it back up before Vernon and Petunia were able to read it. “Sorry for the trouble,” he told them. “I’ll take it upstairs and read it there, and see if I can arrange for it to be delivered there in the future.” </p><p>Vernon gave Harry a gimlet stare. “Are we to expect to be inundated with owls from your fans, then?”</p><p>“Absolutely not!” Harry said firmly. “The wards around the house prevent owls from unknown senders. My best guess is that since I reached out to the Daily Prophet first, that let them deliver here. I made it clear that the wards would stay as they are for the foreseeable future. I don’t particularly want to deal with fanmail either.” </p><p>“Good. Keep it that way.” Harry nodded at his uncle, before turning to take the paper upstairs. “Oh, and boy?” Harry stopped, turning around. “A word of advice. Reporters are vultures, nosy and intrusive. I can only imagine that they’re even worse in your world. Keep your nose clean. The public likes nothing more than to tear down celebrities. They’d better not start coming to our door.” </p><p>Harry nodded again. As he took the paper upstairs, he marveled to himself that Vernon had deigned to give him any kind of useful advice, twice in as many days. He opened the paper again and read the article in its entirety.</p><p>
  <i>Potter Apologizes<br/>
For the first time since his reentry into the magical world, Harry Potter has reached out to the community to clear up any confusion from his notable lack of response for the past eleven years. While we have attached a copy of his letter below, he laid it out very simply. As he resides with Muggle relatives, he does not have a method to legally protect himself from anyone who might have wanted to take advantage of his youth to harm him. In order to ensure a relatively safe childhood, someone – we at the Daily Prophet are not certain whom, though it appears that Potter may know – arranged for mail wards to be erected that redirect mail from anyone whom Potter does not know personally.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>As a result, Potter never received any of our correspondence or gifts. Potter went on to apologize for the inconvenience, asking for patience as he “[tries] to figure this out,” though he noted that he should be able to receive mail at Hogwarts. We at the Daily Prophet thank him for clearing up the mystery of why many of us never received acknowledgments of our gifts over the years, and wish him luck dealing with eleven years of mail. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>However, his predicament has brought up an interesting question – how are underage Muggleborn supposed to protect themselves from malicious mail-senders while at home? With the laws as they stand, they are not permitted to use magic at home, and by definition they have no magical relatives to rely upon. Were someone to send a charmed letter as a prank, the receiver would have no way of knowing prior to being charmed, and no way of ending the magic afterward, thereby risking a breach in the Statute of Secrecy. Mail wards are not financially available to the average witch or wizard, so what recourse do our most vulnerable have? </i>
</p><p>
  <i>I was able to consult with an Auror regarding the matter. “It’s a hole in the laws,” the Auror, who wished to remain anonymous, stated, “but not one easily dealt with, as far as I can see it. We cannot ask our Muggleborn to eschew owl mail entirely, as that would cut them off from our world. We cannot allow students to cast magic at home, as there is no responsible adult nearby in order to handle problems that may come up. Providing mail wards to every Muggleborn student discovered would be prohibitively expensive. And intercepting large quantities of owl mail for the purpose of inspection is both ludicrous and a massive invasion of privacy. The best solution, I think, is to loosen the restriction of magic, to allow underage students to cast a limited set of spells, with the understanding that Hogwarts would be responsible for teaching students how to do so reliably and responsibly. That would still require more manpower in the Ministry, however, as the use of magic would need to be monitored to ensure that it’s not abused.” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Regarding what Muggleborn students should do for the moment, the Auror suggested a basic set of rules:<br/>
1.	Acquire an owl if you don’t already have one, and have two letters pre-written in case of emergency, detailing your name and address, with permission to enter. One for St. Mungo’s, for medical emergencies, and one for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for handling events as they arise.<br/>
2.	Do not open packages from unknown senders. As magical items – including charmed paper – generally activate on human touch or upon being “used” (read, in the case of letters), carefully use another object to move any packages to another location. Dragonhide gloves come highly recommended for their magic resistance, and are part of your general Hogwarts supplies.<br/>
3.	When you have the opportunity, take any packages from unknown senders to the nearest Owl Post Office. They have offices in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade, in addition to some smaller locations. They have the resources to verify safety of packages, and know the proper procedures if a package is not safe. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Rest assured that we at the Daily Prophet will continue to follow up on this story as it develops. For any students reading, be careful, and don’t open any mail from unknown senders without an adult magical nearby! </i>
</p><p>
  <i>If anyone has any further helpful suggestions for our student readers, on any subject at all, we ask you to owl us your thoughts. We’ll be starting a column called Student Tips for Education and Magic (STEM) that we hope will prove useful to our younger populace. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>As a token of appreciation for bringing the issue to our society’s attention, management at the Daily Prophet has issued Mr. Harry Potter a free subscription to the Daily Prophet for the duration of his Hogwarts years. Mr. Potter, we hope this helps you stay in contact with our world. Stay safe! </i>
</p><p>Harry blinked, stunned. That was… his innocent apology had caused this? He hadn’t even thought about how others would protect themselves. And now the news was crediting him for bringing it up? At least the suggested precautions sounded fairly reasonable. And it was nice that they’d given him a free subscription, though Harry was sure that was in part due to his fame. </p><p>Regarding the STEM column… Harry considered sending in a post about using the Sight. Divination was really the only field of magic that he could practice at home, really, since the earlier exercises didn’t involve casting active magic. If students could learn the basics, then they would be able to determine if magic was in the package. If it wasn’t, then it was probably safe to open. That could save people some time, instead of having to make their way to Diagon Alley. But he didn’t really want the advice associated with him directly… maybe with a pseudonym? </p><p>Regardless, it’d have to wait, since Hedwig was out delivering to Hermione. Harry cracked open Divining History again, and read on from where he’d left off the night prior. Bathilda Bagshot wasn’t the most engaging author, but this was a topic that Harry was determined to learn. </p><p>According to Bagshot, using Divination to perceive the past came in varying stages of difficulty, and was best grouped by category. She divided the subject into divining by location, divining by item, and divining by concept. </p><p>
  <i>Divining by location – that is, using the location itself as the focus in order to view the past in that area – is relatively easy if it was recent, but magic has a tendency to “wash away” over time unless the location had been irreversibly marked by an event. As a result, famous events are usually easy to look into for a skilled practitioner, but no one will be able to divine basic day-to-day activities from the previous year.  </i>
</p><p>Harry mused it would probably be relatively easy to divine the night his parents died. “I wonder if any of those history book writers actually did that before writing that I was the one who did it,” he muttered under his breath. One day, when he was old enough and skilled enough, he’d go there himself and divine that night. To honor his parents. But for now… Harry shook off those thoughts and refocused on the book. </p><p>
  <i>Divining by item involves using a focus that had been created or marked during an event. Sometimes called Psychometry, it allows the user great detail of anything within the scope of that item’s “life”, and especially the time it was created. For example, a burnt magical item could be used in order to divine how the magical item was created, how it was used, or the circumstances around the fire that burnt it. With some effort and skill, one could use that same item to find who its owners were, and where the item had been. But again, Psychometry is limited to the surroundings of the item. </i>
</p><p>Harry paused from his reading, frowning thoughtfully at where his invisibility cloak was carefully folded up in his trunk. It had been his father’s, once. Maybe when he became more skilled, he’d be able to see what his father did with the cloak. He made a mental note to remember that, and then read on. </p><p>
  <i>Divining by concept is both easier and harder than the others. Instead of using a physical item or location, the wizard uses an idea as the focus, meaning it can be done anywhere without requirement. But, on the other hand, it means that you have no external guide for the magic to reach the event you wanted to divine. Suppose you wanted to divine and record the location where the Hogwarts Founders originally decided to make a school. You don’t know where or when it happened. You can’t use Hogwarts itself as a focus to view earlier than its original creation. But, the decision was historic, in the sense that the decision between four amazing wizards and witches changed the course of British future. So, if you’re willing to put in the time and effort, it’s technically possible. </i>
</p><p>This all was very interesting, in Harry’s opinion, but the next chapter caught his attention hard. </p><p>
  <i>In 1658, an especially creative Diviner by the name of Asterius Black invented a magical artifact called a Pensieve. It combined divining by item and by concept, by way of a materialized memory. Since the memory contained all the remembered concepts of what occurred, and a memory had an “owner”, a Pensieve was able to use it as a focus for Divining the events of that memory and showing it to the user. Because memories could be preserved beyond the life of their owners, this became a priceless addition to historians. </i>
</p><p>However, Pensieves are fiendishly difficult to create, according to a source that wished to remain anonymous. The skill required in Enchantment and Divination to craft them is far outside the skill of most. There are relatively few in the British Isles, and all of them are guarded zealously. </p><p>Harry had to swallow, hard. The ability to see his parents and judge for himself had never seemed so close, or so far away. All he needed was a Pensieve and memories from people who knew them. But getting a Pensieve… Harry shook his head. It sounded like just buying one wasn’t possible. He’d have to make one. The method had to be recorded somewhere. But for now, he knew what he had to do in order to even begin. Enchantment and Divination. Dumbledore had said that Divination was taught starting in his third year of Hogwarts. He’d have to find out what the requirements were for Enchantment.</p><p>Harry took a deep breath, and released it slowly as he closed the book. He knew that even if he read on, he wouldn’t retain anything for the moment. What he’d found was too big, he was too excited and unable to do anything with it. Harry cast his eyes around his room, looking for something calming, distracting. Some of Dudley’s old books? No. A nap? No way. Maybe something in his trunk? </p><p>Harry practically flung it open, and his gaze fell on his invisibility cloak. Perfect. He pulled out his cloak, draped it over himself, sat down on the bed, and activated his Sight. The way the magic flowed through the silvery fabric was soothing, almost hypnotically so. Like sitting next to a bubbling brook and just watching and listening to the water. Harry allowed himself to be lulled, finding an odd sort of peace in just watching the magic move, surrounding him, protecting him. </p><p>Harry next became aware when his stomach growled loudly enough to disturb him. How long had he been…? He took off the cloak and got up from his position on the bed, wincing at his strangely stiff limbs. Harry glanced at his clock, and his eyes widened when he saw the time. 4:57 PM. He’d spent the entire afternoon staring at his cloak with the Sight? That couldn’t be natural! </p><p>Harry very carefully folded up his invisibility cloak and put it away. Was his trance a product of his Divination? Or was it something about the cloak? The combination, somehow? He didn’t know. When he got back to Hogwarts, he’d definitely have to go ask the Divination Professor. But whatever the case, he absolutely could not do that again until he knew what exactly had caused that trance. For now, Harry told himself, his cloak was off limits for Divination. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Day 65 – August 8, 1992</b><br/>
The past week had been frustrating, overall, Harry reflected. After his trance experience with the cloak, he’d had very little progress. Hedwig had returned a few days ago, giving Harry an opportunity to practice the third Divination exercise – sensing the bond with his familiar, and comparing it to the bond with his wand. With some effort, Harry had been able to divine the bond the between himself and Hedwig, but he wasn’t able to perceive that in addition to the bond with his wand at the same time, no matter how many times he’d tried. 
</p><p>
On top of that, Harry was sick and tired of revising his summer assignments. He itched to cast magic with his wand again, to get on his broom and go fly for a while. But he couldn’t. Not yet. Not until he got back to Hogwarts. But his desire to end the monotony of his current existence just made his bedroom seem smaller than ever.
</p><p>
It had been a breath of fresh air when the supplies list had finally come in on the sixth. Vernon was as good as his word – that Saturday, he and Harry were off to London bright and early, so Harry could spend his day at Diagon Alley. Harry had emptied his trunk of anything replaceable, as he needed something to be able to carry his supplies, and he didn’t fancy dragging it full of his previous year’s supplies.
</p><p>
“I’ll be back at 4:00. Don’t forget,” Vernon warned him as he dropped Harry off close to the Leaky Cauldron.
</p><p>
“I won’t,” Harry promised. As Vernon drove away, Harry took a deep breath, readying himself, and walked into the tavern.
</p><p>
The Leaky Cauldron was almost empty this morning, much to Harry’s relief. Tom, the innkeeper, looked up at him as the door opened, and gave him a quick nod. “Off to Diagon Alley?” At Harry’s nod, he gestured to the back exit. “Be careful out there today. There’s a book signing at Flourish and Blott’s in about half an hour, and there are loads of people there already; you’re liable to get mobbed if you’re recognized.”
</p><p>
Harry grimaced. “Thanks for the warning. I’ll try to keep my head down. How long’s the book signing?”
</p><p>
Tom shook his head. “It’s going all day. Gilderoy Lockhart’s making a small fortune, with the number of his books being used for the Hogwarts supplies list this year.”
</p><p>
“Damn,” Harry muttered under his breath. “I’ll see if I can get a cap or something. If I can just get my hair and scar covered, I should be able to avoid them.”
</p><p>
“You might have better luck going to the second-hand bookshop today,” Tom suggested. “Worst case, you have to drop by Flourish and Blott’s anyways, but you might get to avoid the whole thing.” 
</p><p>
“Worth a shot,” Harry agreed. “What’s it called, and where is it? I don’t get to visit Diagon Alley often.”
</p><p>
After getting directions to Taylor’s Tomes, Harry thanked the innkeeper and made his way to Gringotts, doing his best to move quickly and not meet anyone’s eyes. Somehow, he managed to not be waylaid at all, and a short time later, he walked out of Gringotts with a sack filled with a few handfuls of Galleons, Sickles and Knuts each. The sack was stored in his trunk for security.
</p><p>
In what seemed like no time at all, Harry had purchased extra owl treats, enough writing supplies that he couldn’t imagine it not lasting until the end of his third year at least, and a new set of Hogwarts robes (Harry had apparently grown an inch or two since he’d bought some the previous year). The nearest clock indicated that it was close to noon, but Harry wanted to wrap up his needed shopping before more people arrived in the afternoon. So, following the instructions from Tom, Harry found himself at entering Taylor’s Tomes and looking around. It was quiet, smaller than Flourish and Blott’s by a fair margin, but every bookshelf that Harry could see was filled.
</p><p>
“Welcome to Taylor’s Tomes,” a woman’s voice kindly said, and Harry turned to his left to see a middle-aged woman smiling at him from the counter. This was presumably Taylor, but Harry didn’t want to assume – it could just as easily be someone that Taylor had employed, or maybe it had changed owners but kept the name. “First time here?”
</p><p>
“Yes, ma’am.” 
</p><p>
“Looking for anything in particular?”
</p><p>
Harry pulled out his supplies list. “I need a copy of <i>The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2</i>, by Miranda Goshawk. And apparently a lot of books written by Gilderoy Lockhart.”
</p><p>
The woman nodded easily. “We get lots of copies of <i>The Standard Book of Spells</i>. Not many people keep them around after graduating, though I can’t see why. Imagine, you need some spell you know you learned at Hogwarts, and it’s right on the tip of your brain, but you just can’t remember the incantation. Why not just keep it as a reference?” She shook her head ruefully as she walked around the counter with a basket, beckoning Harry to follow her down a bookstack. “We keep the typical Hogwarts reference books in this section, divided by subject. Go on and pick a copy you like.”
</p><p>
True to her word, there must have been nearly twenty copies of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 just sitting there on the shelf. Oddly, there were more books in the shelf than ought to have fit, and it was nearly giving Harry a headache trying to look at them all. “Er, how are you fitting all those books there?”
</p><p>
The woman laughed lightly. “Expansion Charms. They’re pretty common in bookshelves. You’ll learn about them in your fifth or sixth year of Hogwarts, if I remember right. Try not to look at all the books at once, and focus your attention on the ones you want.”
</p><p>
Harry did as she suggested, and immediately felt his brain relax a little. He took a few books out, one at a time, flipping through the pages to make sure nothing was terribly damaged, and picked one that had little more than a few earmarked pages.
</p><p>“Now then, books by Gilderoy Lockhart? Can I see the list?” Harry passed her the list, and she tutted, shaking her head. “I can’t imagine what your Defense Professor wants these for. I’ve read a couple of them, and they’re little more than adventure stories. They don’t give incantations, or wand movements, or anything.”
</p><p>
Harry frowned. “What about the creatures? Trolls, werewolves, vampires? Are they accurate that way?”
</p><p>
The woman paused. “I suppose I wouldn’t know,” she admitted. “But if your Defense Professor were focusing on dark creatures and how to defeat them, then I’d still suggest books that actually treat that as a study.”
</p><p>
“Well, we did have a troll incident last year,” Harry mused aloud. “Might be worthwhile. Do you have any recommendations?” 
</p><p>
“Goodness, a troll? At Hogwarts?” the woman asked, shocked. “Was anyone hurt?”
</p><p>
“No, no,” Harry reassured her. “Everyone was fine.”
</p><p>
  <b>
    <b>“Oh good.” The woman breathed a sigh of relief. “Right. You wanted recommendations for books on creature studies?” </b>
  </b>
</p><p>
“Well, if I have to get the Lockhart books, and you say they’re written like adventure books, I might as well have something to reference.”
</p><p>
She beamed. “Excellent idea. The Lockhart books should be over there, in the adventure section. We don’t get many of them, though, so pickings might be a bit sparse. It’s sorted by author’s last name, first name, then book title. I’ll see what I can find for creature studies.” She gave him back his supplies list and quickly made her way to another section of the store.
</p><p>
Harry did as the shopkeeper bid, and exactly as she’d predicted, there were only a few copies of each title. The fact that any were there at all, though, was a huge relief. He quickly picked the best of the bunch, and made his way back to the shopkeeper.
</p><p>
She was muttering to herself, tracing a finger along the tops of the books. “… <i>Monsters Great and Terrible</i>, no… <i>Mischief-Makers of the Continent</i>, no… <i>Origins of the Vampire Curse</i>, awfully specific, but no… <i>Humanoid Monsters and their Habits</i>…” She paused. “Which monsters does the supply list mention?”
</p><p>
Harry looked at the list again. “Trolls, hags, banshees, werewolves, vampires, yetis.”
</p><p>
“Then this one ought to do. Those are all humanoid. Give me a minute to check.” She opened the book and flipped through it for a minute, before nodding in satisfaction. “Yes, this should do nicely. And it’s in good condition. Are you sure you want it?”
</p><p>
Harry smiled at her. “Why not?”
</p><p>
She grinned right back at him. “Excellent.” She plopped it in the basket, and indicated Harry do the same with the books he’d collected. He did so. “Anything else you’re looking for, while you’re here?” 
</p><p>
Now that she mentioned it, he did have a few things he wanted to look up. “Do you have anything on invisibility cloaks? Or Enchantment?”
</p><p>
She looked up, tapping a finger to the side of her chin as she thought about it. “We should have some Enchantment texts in the Hogwarts section. I’m not sure if we have something about invisibility cloaks, though. Go have a look while I see what I can find. Remember, the Hogwarts section is divided into subsections, so you’ll see Enchantment after Defense Against the Dark Arts.”
</p><p>
Harry thanked her for the tip, and went to go look. Sure enough, he found a copy of <i>Entry to Enchanting, Volume I</i>, that had a stain on the back of the cover and the corners of a few of the pages, but was otherwise in excellent condition.
</p><p>
The shopkeeper was waiting for him when he made it back to the counter. “Think I found what you’re looking for.” She held up a book titled <i>Guides to Disguise</i>. “It covers illusions and potions to change your appearance, but there’s a whole chapter on invisibility cloaks.” She flipped through the pages and showed Harry the chapter in question.
</p><p>
Harry grinned. “That’s perfect! Thank you!”
</p><p>
“Anytime,” the shopkeeper said with a smile. “Figured that you might want some assistance being unnoticed, right Mr. Potter?”
</p><p>
“Definitely,” Harry agreed. He didn’t even care that the shopkeeper had identified him; she’d been so helpful and hadn’t made a big deal of it. “Thanks for saving me from going to Flourish and Blott’s – I don’t fancy my chances with that crowd. How much do I owe you?”
</p><p>
“Just a moment.” She quickly and efficiently rang them up. “Ten Sickles and twelve Knuts.”
</p><p>
Harry’s eyebrows raised in surprise at the low price; such was the allure of secondhand books, he supposed. “At those prices, I can’t imagine why you don’t get more customers,” he murmured as he took the needed money out of his trunk.
</p><p>
The shopkeeper chuckled, taking his money and putting it in her till. Harry began packing the books into his trunk. “Not many even know my shop exists,” she told him. “It’s all about location. Flourish and Blott’s is on the main thoroughfare, and I’m not, so it’s convenient for the average wizard. Only those who are suffering financially, or make a point of using secondhand, tend to come by.”
</p><p>
“Yeah, well, when I tell my friend Hermione about this place, she might well buy one of everything,” Harry told her, only half-joking. “Actually, do you have any owl-order forms?”
</p><p>
As it happened, she did. The shopkeeper explained that they automagically updated as she catalogued new stock, and showed Harry how they displayed the title, condition, and price of each book. Harry happily took a few of them and packed them in his trunk for later.
</p><p>
After a very filling lunch at the Leady Cauldron, Harry got directions from Tom and made his way to the last major errand he had to make today: seeing about a house-elf. It took him the better part of fifteen minutes to make his way there, down several side streets, until Harry was finally in front of what appeared to be a well-maintained shack.
</p><p>
The door was wide open, so Harry hesitantly made his way in. As soon as he was inside, an older-looking house-elf popped into existence in front of him. It wasn’t old-old, just older than Dobby. Like an adult elf might look, Harry imagined. “How can we be helping young wizard?” 
</p><p>
“I, er, had some questions about house-elves,” Harry told him. “I only learned you all exist just recently, and I want to make sure I understand how things work before I tell my Muggle-born friend. There are pieces of Muggle history that make us uncomfortable about the idea of, er… unpaid sentient servants. But magic can be strange, so I don’t want to judge without the whole story. Can I ask without, well, offending anyone?” 
</p><p>The house-elf nodded its head gently. “Young wizard is seeking knowledge. You can ask.” </p><p>“Right. So, er, is it true that you can’t survive without an external source of magic? That your bodies don’t provide enough for you to live?” </p><p>The elf nodded. “It is true for elves that reach adulthood. Young elves produce enough magic for themselves, but our bodies break down quickly. Without external magic, we would die before our fifth year. It is not so bad!” the elf followed up quickly, seeing Harry’s horrified expression. “Even a mildly magical place is enough to sustain us for a few more years. It is only after our tenth year that a house-elf’s body needs more than a magical glade to survive.” </p><p>“And that’s where a bond with a wizard comes in?” </p><p>“Young wizard is right,” the elf agreed. “Bonding with a wizard allows an elf a steady source of magic to survive. We prefer to bond with families, to lessen the strain on a single wizard, and for the bond to survive the passing of individuals.”</p><p>Harry bit his lip. “What about house-elves who aren’t treated well by their bonded, or who want to leave? I met one a little bit ago – it’s how I learned about you at all – and he was doing everything he could to save me from his bonded. The elf was positively gleeful when an Auror figured out how to thwart his bonded.” </p><p>The elf seemed to shrink a bit. “Tis a risk of bonding,” he admitted. “Bonding requires an elf to accept a wizard’s magic into them. But as a wizard’s magic responds to the will of the wizard, an elf’s body must respond to the will of the wizard too. No elf can sever the bond, once established, without the consent of the wizard. But an elf’s mind is its own. A clever elf can work around the orders given. The elf young wizard saw was likely inherited – bonded to the family many years ago, or the child of bonded elves.” </p><p>That tracked with what Harry had seen with Dobby. But it rankled. His mouth opened before he had consciously decided what to say. “Is it worth it?” he found himself asking. “Being a servant in exchange for living? Wouldn’t you resent having to serve someone else, being forced against your will just to survive? Having your body not listen to your wants and wishes if your master told it not to?” He adamantly refused to acknowledge how his own voice quavered, and stubbornly pushed down any painful memories that tried to rise up. </p><p>The elf smiled sadly, meeting Harry’s eyes. “An elf is not unlike a wizard in some ways,” he told Harry gently. “If an elf finds a good wizard or good family, then bonding is simply finding family. If an elf does not, then the elf must decide which is stronger – his will to live, or his principles. Some choose life. Some choose principles. Just like wizards. But you is misunderstanding something, young wizard. An elf must work to survive.”</p><p>“What?” Harry blinked. “You have to work to live? I thought you needed magic.”</p><p>“We need both. A house-elf’s body needs magic to live. A house-elf’s mind needs work to stay sane. Work gives purpose to magic. An elf without work, without purpose, becomes… volatile. Chaotic.” The elf looked uncomfortable, but kept speaking. “Such an elf is a danger to everything, young wizard. It is not a hardship for an elf to be a good wizard’s servant, as long as there is work to be done.” </p><p>Oh. That changed things considerably. “So, being a servant for a good wizard is… ideal? For a house-elf? Because it means that you’ll be given work, family, and magic? Everything you need to live a long life, and happiness, because a good wizard would not take your will away without a really good reason?” </p><p>The elf positively beamed. “It is every elf’s dream.” </p><p>Harry stayed quiet for a while, processing that. The elf waited patiently. “So… how do you determine if someone is a good wizard?” he finally asked quietly. “Is there some elf magic that you can use to judge a personality? Do you just invisibly follow someone for a while?” </p><p>The elf shook its head. “Before an elf will bond itself to a wizard, traditionally both will enter an elf circle that prevents lies. The elf will ask any questions it wishes of the wizard, and the wizard will do the same of the elf. If both wish to bond after, then the elf will explain the process.” The elf peered at Harry curiously. “Is young wizard wanting to bond a house-elf?” </p><p>Harry looked away. “I… My aunt wants me to. I thought about it. Having a bonded elf would help me a lot. But I wanted to understand first, you know? Meeting you, talking to you… thank you for answering my questions. Truly.” He forced himself to meet the elf’s gaze. “But… I’m still as conflicted as I was before. Maybe more so now, because it sounds like house-elves have been dealt a really rotten hand by life, and… and it still feels like I’d be asking for an elf to bond for selfish reasons,” he finally blurted. “That I’d be taking advantage of your needs. Giving you what you need to survive, not because it’s the right thing to do, but because I want something from you. And that’s not someone I want to be. But then if I don’t ask a house-elf to bond, then I’m not helping at all, and I don’t want to be like that either!” Harry’s sight blurred towards the end, and he raised an arm to wipe roughly at his eyes. </p><p>“Young wizard is kind,” the elf stated gently. “It is okay to have selfish reasons behind helping someone, if the other understands. If young wizard did not have those reasons, and still came here today, would young wizard have offered to bond?”</p><p>Harry bit his lip. “I’m not sure,” he whispered. “I think I would have.”</p><p>“Even if young wizard could not bond today, would young wizard still want to help?”</p><p>“As much as I could,” Harry answered immediately. </p><p>“Then young wizard should not be harsh with young wizard,” the elf said simply. “Young wizard is kind. Flippy understands.” </p><p>Harry’s eyes creased in momentary confusion. “Flippy? Is that your name?”</p><p>“Yes. Can Flippy ask young wizard’s name?” </p><p>Harry smiled. “Harry Potter.” </p><p>Flippy smiled back. “Harry Potter… Flippy has heard of you. But Flippy expects Harry Potter knows Harry Potter is known far and wide. Does Harry Potter wish to know a secret?” </p><p>“Er, sure?” </p><p>“Harry Potter has been in elf circle this whole time!”</p><p>Harry blinked. “What?”</p><p>Flippy gestured at the shack they stood in. “This place is built on top of large elf circle! No lies allowed here, and Harry Potter told truth the whole time. Flippy believes Flippy has a good grasp of Harry Potter’s character. Flippy is willing to bond, if Harry Potter wishes.”</p><p>Harry’s jaw dropped in surprise. “I, er, are you sure?” </p><p>“Flippy is sure,” the elf stated resolutely. “Flippy must take Harry Potter’s hand and ask ritual questions.” He extended a hand, palm side up. Harry, after a moment, placed his hand atop it, and Flippy placed his other hand on top of them both. “Does Harry Potter swear to provide magic for Flippy’s survival, should the bond be created?” </p><p>“I swear.” A ring of green light manifested around their hands.</p><p>“Does Harry Potter swear to provide work for Flippy’s sanity, should the bond be created?”</p><p>“I swear.” Another ring, colored blue, joined the first. </p><p>“Does Harry Potter swear to provide space for Flippy’s home, should the bond be created?” </p><p>“I swear.” A third ring, a reddish-brown, joined the other two. </p><p>“Flippy hears Harry Potter, and acknowledges him as Master. The bond may be broken by Harry Potter giving Flippy clothes with the intention of ending the bond.” </p><p>The light around their hands coalesced, turning into a thick band of white for a brief moment before sinking into their hands. Harry felt a trickle of magic flow out of him, and out of curiosity, activated his Sight. He saw the magic flow out of his chest and to Flippy, and saw how his magic seemed to… spread through Flippy’s body, making Flippy brighter, if only a little. Oh. Oh! He was watching his bond at work! </p><p>The amount of magic Flippy was pulling was rather small, though. Much less than a Lumos. Harry could keep this amount up virtually forever. Was that really enough for Flippy? “Would it hurt you if I provided a bit more magic?” </p><p>“Not at all, Master Harry.” </p><p>Harry focused his intent, slowly increasing the amount of magic travelling through the bond to just below what a Lumos would take out of him. “As it’s the summer holidays, I can’t use my magic anyway, so you might as well take some and stock up,” Harry told Flippy with a smile. </p><p>Flippy breathed in deeply, and grinned at Harry. “Flippy feels much stronger. Thank you, Master Harry. Now, how can Flippy help?”</p><p>Struck with inspiration, Harry gestured at his trunk. “Can you take my trunk back to my room at Number 4 Privet Drive?” </p><p>In response, Flippy simply snapped his fingers, and the trunk vanished. He looked at Harry expectantly, and Harry nodded in understanding. </p><p>“I’ll need to talk to my aunt, but you’ll likely be placed in charge of cooking, cleaning around the house, and yard maintenance. She’s using certain chores to teach my cousin Dudley the value of responsibility, so I’ll need to make sure that I don’t undercut her. Although… can you pop me back to Number 4, like you did my trunk?” </p><p>Another snap of Flippy’s long fingers, and quite suddenly Harry stood in his bedroom next to his trunk. He breathed out, long and slow. “Wicked…”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Days 65-87</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Harry arranges work for Flippy, and works on some self-improvement.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Day 65: August 8, 1992</strong>
</p><p>Despite accidentally startling Petunia and Vernon quite badly with his sudden appearance in their home, Harry felt the conversation was going quite well, to be honest. After getting over his surprise, Vernon had appreciated not having to drive back to London. Harry’s uncle then quietly sat back to listen while Petunia and Harry worked out an arrangement for Flippy’s work schedule. Per Harry’s request, the house-elf remained present but invisible during the conversation. Flippy had agreed to alert Harry discreetly if Harry accidentally over-allocated chores his way, though the house-elf had seemed amused by the thought.</p><p>“While I don’t mind Flippy handling most meals, there are going to be times where I want to cook for Vernon,” Petunia was explaining. “And you may know how to work the kitchen, but I won’t have Dudley living on microwave meals after he’s moved out, and he definitely needs practice with washing the dishes. I do need to make time and teach him.”</p><p>Harry frowned. “Yeah, I can see how that’d be a problem. How about… lunches every day, breakfast on weekday mornings, and dinners every other day? Breakfast and lunch dishes done every day, but dinner dishes done on the nights that you’re teaching Dudley how to cook?”</p><p>“That’s doable, but I’ll need to meet with Flippy to discuss meal plans. It won’t do to have the ingredients for teaching Dudley a basic meal, only for Flippy to use them on one of his days.”</p><p>Harry nodded. “I’ll have Flippy meet with you tonight to figure that out, if you’re alright with that? Just call for him when you’re ready.”</p><p>Petunia gave a short nod of agreement. “Now, about general cleaning. Sweeping, dusting, mopping?”</p><p>“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Harry told her. “How about daily dusting and sweeping, and mopping every week at a minimum? It’d be at Flippy’s discretion to do it more often, as long as he’s discreet and it doesn’t cause you any problems.”</p><p>Petunia leaned back on the couch. “That will do for this year, but next summer we’ll need to scale that back a bit so Dudley can get some experience at it.”</p><p>“That’s fair.” Harry frowned. “I’m guessing that garden maintenance is entirely on Dudley while he’s here, but after he’s back in school, then Flippy can take care of it?”</p><p>“That would be appreciated,” Petunia told him sincerely. “Now, the next thing I’d ask for is routine magic checks.”</p><p>Harry cocked his head in confusion. “I’m sorry?”</p><p>Petunia reached out for Vernon, who took her hand gently. “What she’s saying, boy,” Vernon said gruffly, “is that being normal, non-magical people, it’s almost impossible for us to tell if we’ve been… changed against our will. Cursed. Made to think things unnaturally, had our memories erased, anything like that. It’s one of the reasons why we’re… uncomfortable around magic. It would go a long way to easing our fears if we had your word that you wouldn’t do that to us, and that you or your elf would check for that regularly.”</p><p>“I… why would you trust me on that?” Harry asked incredulously. “Why would you trust me now? You’d have no way of verifying my findings, and my elf would lie to you if I told him to!”</p><p>“Don’t have much ruddy choice, now do we?” Vernon pointed out. “But to be honest, boy? It’s because you didn’t use anything but words even when I struck you last week. Your aunt talked to me about accidental magic recently. How you can’t control little magic outbursts when you’re scared or angry. Last week certainly qualified, in my books. You could’ve done anything to me, and I wouldn’t have been able to stop you. But you didn’t, even when I hurt you. Didn’t even threaten it. If you didn’t use magic on me despite that, then it stands to reason that you won’t use magic on me unless I ask for it. So, I’m asking you to use your magic on me, to make sure no one else does.”</p><p>“I…” Harry sagged into the couch. It felt incredibly unfair that Vernon be so damned reasonable now. If he’d just <em>talked </em>to him when Harry was younger, then maybe… Harry stopped that train of thought; it wasn’t helpful right now, and it’d just work him up. “Yes. Okay. I don’t know the detection charms for stuff like that, so I’ll check with Flippy and see what we can do, okay? How often would you want to be checked?”</p><p>“Daily, if possible. Just to be safe,” Vernon told him, squeezing Petunia’s hand lightly. She squeezed back, nodding her support.</p><p>“Okay. We’ll try,” Harry said heavily. “Anything else?”</p><p>“Not at the moment,” Petunia told him. “Thank you for lending us your elf.”</p><p>Harry managed to nod at her, and then got up and retreated to his room. As soon as the door closed, Flippy returned to visibility. “Is Master Harry well?”</p><p>“Just… tired,” Harry told him, sitting on his bed. “My relatives and I have a… very strained relationship.”</p><p>“Flippy wishes to understand, if Master Harry is willing to explain.”</p><p>“Yeah. I suppose it’s best if you know what’s going on.” So, Harry explained the basics – about Petunia’s relationship with Lily, how that had translated to Harry’s rough treatment as he grew up, although Harry glossed over what he’d actually gone through. He wrapped up with how he’d blown up at Petunia, and then at Vernon, and how they came to the current détente. “So yeah. We’ve never really been family. I’ve never been able to trust them to have my best interest. Dealing with them is exhausting, because now that I’ve thrown it in their face that we’ll never be family, now is when they actually treat me like a human being? With an iota of respect? All I can think is if someone had just opened their eyes sooner, then we <em>could </em>have been family, and it just makes it hurt all over again.” His eyes misted up, but Harry resolutely tried very hard not to let a single tear fall. He was better than this! There was no point in lamenting what might have been!</p><p>Flippy placed one hand on Harry’s leg, gently. “Flippy thanks Master Harry. Would it help if Master Harry did not have to interact with Master Harry’s relatives except when Master Harry wanted to?”</p><p>Harry chuckled, a little wetly if he was honest. He wiped the would-be tears roughly from his eyes. “That’d be brilliant,” he told the elf. “But how?”</p><p>Flippy gave Harry a look that conveyed an amused exasperation. “Flippy is Master Harry’s elf,” he pointed out. “If Master Harry does not want to interact with his relatives, Master Harry does not have to. Flippy can pop Master Harry wherever he needs to be. Flippy can bring meals to Master Harry. Flippy can use magic to lock the door and silence the walls. Master Harry does not even need to see his relatives if he does not wish to.”</p><p>It took Harry a moment, but he nodded in assent. “Yeah. Okay. Let’s do it that way. But before we do, do you happen to know how to check them for external magic?”</p><p>“Flippy knows how to check for external magic, but not how to undo it. That be wizard business.”</p><p>Harry nodded. “Alright. I’ll tell them that they need to call for you to check them at their convenience, no more than once per day. If one of them does show signs of external magic, I need you to tell me so I can figure out what to do from there.”</p><p>“Yes, Master Harry.”</p><p>Harry paused, realizing just how much work he was assigning his elf. “Am I giving you enough work? Too much work? I don’t know how to gauge that.”</p><p>“Master Harry is doing well. Flippy will speak up if he needs more or less,” Flippy reassured him.</p><p>“Not just if you need it, please,” Harry requested. “If you want more or less, too, please let me know. Your happiness is important.”</p><p>The elf smiled. “Master Harry is kind. Flippy knows.”</p><p>
  <strong>Day 77 - August 20, 1992</strong>
</p><p>There were less than two weeks before he could return to Hogwarts, and Harry couldn’t wait. He itched to use magic, to try some of the spells he’d been reading about. And while he’d been practicing his Divination, he was honestly getting a bit sick of the same exercises day after day. He’d finally managed to view his bonds with Hedwig, his wand, and Flippy at the same time, and while he could see differences in the way his magic flowed to and through them, Harry was still working out what the differences <em>meant. </em></p><p>Worse still, that was the last exercise in <em>Scrying for the Sightless </em>that Harry could do at Privet Drive. He’d looked – the next one involved watching other wizards and witches with the Sight, to look for the tell-tale aura of magic that active magic users gave off when casting magic. The text said that it was best to start with wizards and witches because their magic was relatively volatile compared to other species, which made it easier to perceive. Harry had had Flippy take him back to Diagon Alley, to let Harry watch the people shopping… but frustratingly, no one tended to use magic while on the street. He’d just have to wait until he was back at Hogwarts.</p><p>Harry had even sent a letter to Dumbledore to ask about the mail wards, and had received the following reply:</p><p>
  <em>Harry,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>As you surmised, I am the one who placed mail redirection wards on your home when you were placed there. I do appreciate your good sense in not naming me in your letter to the Daily Prophet! </em>
</p><p>
  <em>All of your mail was sent to a storage vault in Gringotts in your name. While I cannot stop you from undertaking the task of dealing with the mail now, I suggest waiting until you have returned to Hogwarts. There are detection spells that would serve you well, and having Madame Pomphrey close by would only be to your benefit, just in case there are any cursed items. I will certainly assist in relocating the letters to an unused room in Hogwarts for you to go through.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I might also suggest you work with our newest Defense Professor, Gilderoy Lockhart, who is no stranger to fame himself. I daresay he would have some good tips for dealing with fan mail. I would offer my services and advice, but I don’t get fan mail like I used to – I’m out of practice, and the methods I use are a bit advanced for a second year Hogwarts student. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>I wish you all the best,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore</em>
</p><p>Harry had seen the sense in Dumbledore’s suggestions, but that left him bored at Privet Drive. His boredom had gotten so bad that Harry had actually started looking more closely at the issues of <em>The Daily Prophet </em>that he’d been receiving, to see what sort of advice the STEM column had to say. There was the expected advice, like “Remember that your professors are resources. If you’re having trouble with something, visit them after hours and they can usually point you in the right direction.” Harry could almost hear Hermione having given that quote.</p><p>There was the mysterious, well-meaning advice, like “If you’re having trouble sleeping, try moving to a couch in your common room and sitting next to the fireplace. You’ll drift off in no time, and wake up in your own bed.” Harry suspected either really good friends, an enchantment on the common rooms, or maybe the Hogwarts house-elves.</p><p>And then there was the unusual but very good advice, such as “Be careful of how you’re perceived. Take the time to stay up to date with how people see you, and think carefully about who you want to be associated with. You can’t be friends with everyone, but it is startlingly easy to become friends with no one.” Having had personal experience with the effects of a bad reputation, Harry promised himself that he’d try harder this year to be more social.</p><p>But that still had to wait until he got back to Hogwarts! What was he supposed to do until then?! “Flippy?” Harry found himself asking. The house-elf popped into existence a few feet away, listening intently. “Are there any magical recreation centers in or near Diagon Alley? Or a pool?”</p><p>“Yes, Master Harry. There are many places, though they are mainly for children not ready to attend Hogwarts, or who need watching while their parents work over the summer. There is a large pool. Does Master Harry wish Flippy to check the pool hours?”</p><p>“Please,” Harry told him. “Oh, and check what their rates are for teaching someone how to swim? My relatives never bothered to teach me.”</p><p>“Flippy shall.” With a snap of his fingers, Flippy was gone.</p><p>Harry idly activated his Sight and observed his bond with Flippy, seeing how distance did nothing to weaken the bond at all. The same had occurred with Hedwig when he divined their bond while she was out delivering mail. He guessed that would happen with his wand as well, though he’d never purposely leave his wand that far away. “I guess magical bonds just don’t weaken by distance…” he murmured.</p><p>He saw and felt it before he heard it – his bond with Flippy flexed, or pinged, or… Harry didn’t know the word. Whatever it was, Harry suddenly <em>knew</em> that Flippy was in transit to him. Sure enough, a split second later, Flippy appeared right where Harry was looking. “Master Harry, the pool is available. A trainer is available, and charges two Sickles per student per hour. Does Master Harry wish to go?”</p><p>Harry only needed a few seconds to decide. “Yes. Never know when I’m gonna need to know how to swim, might as well learn while I’ve got the time.” He started to reach out, then blushed. “Flippy, do they have swimwear for sale? I just remembered I don’t have any.”</p><p>Flippy merely smiled. “Of course, Master Harry.” He reached out, and Harry took his hand before they both popped away from Privet Drive.</p><p>Fifteen minutes later, Harry owned a very dark green pair of swim trunks and was wading into the water with his personal instructor, a sixteen-year-old wizard who introduced himself as Joseph Starling, next to him. “Alright. You’ve bought my time for two hours. What do you want to work on?”</p><p>Harry blushed. “The basics. I, er, never learned how to swim.”</p><p>Starling nodded easily. “Good on you for making the time to come in, then.” Seeing Harry’s startled look, Starling shrugged at him. “We get older students all the time. Some parents just don’t bother to teach their kids to swim without magic, figuring they’ll never need it. Better to know how, though, just in case. Magic can be weird. So, the basics. Leave your glasses by the edge of the pool, you’ll just lose them if you don’t.”</p><p>The first hour was dedicated to guiding Harry into good breathing practice; it was hard at first for Harry to remember to blow bubbles when his face was submerged, since his instinct was to hold his breath, but slowly experience won out, and Harry soon found that it was a lot easier not to panic when he knew exactly when he’d get his next breath of air, and that lack of panic meant that his air lasted longer since his heart wasn’t beating fast in fear. “There’s a spell you’ll pick up in your later years at Hogwarts,” Starling told him. “The Bubble-Head Charm will make sure you have a steady supply of air, but if something pops it then you ought to know how to deal with water in your face, and panic can kill anyone underwater, wizard or no.”</p><p>The remaining time was used to acquaint Harry with how to float. “Thing is about swimming,” Starling lectured as Harry tried to position himself the way the instructor had demonstrated, “is that it can be ruddy exhausting. Moving through water is a lot harder than moving through air, and your muscles can tire out really fast. Lucky for humans in general, most of us are buoyant enough to float, if we angle ourselves right.” Starling used one hand to push up on Harry’s lower back, correcting his position. “Takes a bit to get the feel for it, but it’s a lifesaver.”</p><p>When Starling called time, Harry was more than a bit tired, but it was a good kind of tired, and he was confident he nearly had the float technique down. As they waded out of the pool, Harry ventured a question. “So, continue where we left off tomorrow?”</p><p>Starling flashed him a quick grin. “Absolutely. I’ll have you swimming laps before Hogwarts starts up. Same time?”</p><p>“See you then.” They shook hands, and Harry was back at Privet Drive twenty minutes later.</p><p>
  <strong>Day 87 - August 30, 1992</strong>
</p><p>Harry had returned to the pool every day since then, and Starling had been as good as his word – Harry had the front crawl down well enough to swim a lap or two at a time before needing a break, and Starling was teaching him the breaststroke on alternating days. Harry had found that he actually liked swimming. It wasn’t as good as flying, but it was nice all the same.</p><p>They’d already finished today’s session, and were just floating together for a bit. “It’s too bad that Hogwarts doesn’t have a proper pool,” Starling said aloud. “I mean, there’s the Black Lake and all, but no one wants to go swimming there in winter!”</p><p>“What about warming charms?” Harry asked curiously.</p><p>“Eh, they work for a bit,” Starling conceded. “But last time I tried that after it snowed, the charm wore off while I was in the middle of the lake. Couldn’t feel my toes by the time I got back to shore.”</p><p>“I’ll remember that. But we should go swim some more while the weather’s warm.”</p><p>“Sounds fun.”</p><p>They floated in companionable silence for a bit.</p><p>“Hey, Potter? You ever consider getting your eyes corrected?”</p><p>Harry was so startled he stopped floating, and after a minute stared at Starling – or at least the blurry blob that he knew was Starling. His glasses were on the side of the pool again. “That’s an option?!”</p><p>“I guess that’s a no.” Starling chuckled, gracefully pulling himself out of his float and setting his feet on the pool floor. “You ever see a pureblood with glasses? Nah, anyone who has eye trouble gets it corrected pretty early. The ones who do wear glasses do it to look stylish, or if the glasses have an enchantment.”</p><p>“Why didn’t Madame Pomphrey tell me?!” Harry asked, incredibly frustrated.</p><p>“It’s an elective procedure, and not one they handle at Hogwarts. You’d have to go to St. Mungo’s. She probably assumed you were waiting for some reason. Only reason I know about it is that I’ve got a friend who found out last year – she had much the same reaction.”</p><p>Harry took a couple of deep breaths, bringing his temper to heel. “Well, looks like I know what I’m doing today. Thanks, Starling.” He started making his way over to the side of the pool to get his glasses.</p><p>He’d just put them on when Starling called out to him again. “Hey, Potter, before you go?”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“I don’t want you feeling like I hid this from you or anything, when we get back to Hogwarts. I’m a Slytherin. I know that you’ve got some problems with a few of us, but are we good?” Starling’s voice was even, but Harry could hear a hint of uncertainty.</p><p>Had Harry not had his reality knocked off its axis by his meeting with the Morrigan a couple of months ago, he might’ve had a problem with Joseph Starling being a Slytherin. But as it was, Harry knew that the world had seven years and a handful of months left, unless Voldemort’s Horcruxes were destroyed. Compared to that, some stupid House feud was utterly meaningless.</p><p>Harry chuckled. “Yeah, we’re good. I only really have problems with Malfoy. Besides, I was almost a Slytherin myself.”</p><p>Harry could almost hear Starling’s raised eyebrow. “Now you’ve got me curious. Care to share?”</p><p>He shrugged. “I was eleven and new to the wizarding world. Just found out about You-Know-Who, and heard that he and a lot of his followers were in Slytherin. Really didn’t help that Malfoy made a terrible first and second impression and went to Slytherin before I got sorted. So, when the Hat told me I’d do well in Slytherin, I asked the Hat to put me anywhere but there. And that’s how I ended up in Gryffindor.”</p><p>“But you don’t have a problem with Slytherin now?” Starling asked slowly, confused.</p><p>“I had my eyes opened,” Harry said simply. “I’ve got bigger problems. Besides, it does me no good to make enemies when I don’t need to. Ron might have a problem with you, but he’ll figure it out or learn how to deal with it. Seriously, we’re fine, Starling. I’ll see you at Hogwarts.”</p><p>“Not tomorrow?”</p><p>“Nah, taking tomorrow off to pack and make sure I’m good to go.”</p><p>“In that case, I’ll see you at Hogwarts,” Starling said with a smile.</p><p>“See you then.” Harry waved at him and then made his way to the changing room, to get dressed. As soon as he was ready, he nodded to himself. “Flippy?”</p><p>The elf popped in. “Yes, Master Harry?”</p><p>“To St. Mungo’s, please.”</p><p>A moment later, Harry popped into existence in what had to be St. Mungo’s reception room. It looked moderately busy, with rows of rickety-looking wooden chairs being sat on by wizards and witches of all ages. Some looked perfectly normal, reading magazines like <em>Witch Weekly</em>, while some looked to have been disfigured with donkey hooves, an ant’s mandible, and such. Still others looked to have been cursed somehow; for example, there was a man whose nose grew longer and longer until the man literally pushed it flat against his face again, and the cycle began anew.</p><p>Witches and wizards in lime-green robes, emblazoned with a wand and bone crossed, were walking down the rows, taking notes on clipboards. Harry guessed that these were the Healers. He was about to take a chair, when he spotted a receptionist, and figured it’d be better to actually know for sure where he needed to go. He got into the queue and patiently waited his turn. As he waited, he read the floor guide that was helpfully placed, but didn’t see anything like what he wanted to ask about. His eyesight definitely wasn’t caused by a potions accident, or a creature attack, or spell damage, or magical disease. But the guide did say to ask the “welcomewitch” if one was unsure.</p><p>It took a few minutes, but he finally made it to the front of the line. “Reason for visit?” the witch asked shortly.</p><p>“Elective procedure to fix my eyes.”</p><p>The witch looked at him. “Any magical cause, or just bog-standard sight issues?”</p><p>“The latter.”</p><p>“Third floor. Next!”</p><p>Well, he heard the lady. He made his way to the third floor, and saw more rows of chairs and Healers making their way through the people sitting upon them. Harry took a seat and waited. It took a few minutes, but a Healer got to him quick enough. “Name?”</p><p>“Harry Potter.”</p><p>Sure enough, the Healer paused, glanced at his forehead, then shook himself. “I don’t see anything immediately wrong. What are your symptoms, and what are you looking for us to do?”</p><p>“My eyesight’s terrible. I’m told there’s a procedure to fix that, so I don’t have to wear glasses anymore.”</p><p>“Thank Merlin, an easy one.” The Healer scribbled some notes on his clipboard, then nodded at Harry. “Down that hallway, fourth door on the left. We’ll have a Healer come in to discuss the procedure.”</p><p>Harry nodded firmly, and promptly followed the Healer’s directions, sitting down on the chair waiting for him. It took another fifteen minutes, but eventually a harried-looking older woman came in. She checked her clipboard. “Mr. Potter?”</p><p>“That’s me.”</p><p>“Here for the standard sight correction procedure?”</p><p>“Yes, ma’am.”</p><p>“Alright, let me explain what will happen if you choose to go through with it.” She waved her wand, generating an illusion of Harry’s face in the air. “Natural eyesight problems are, in general, caused by minor shape problems of the eye itself.” The illusion zoomed in on one of Harry’s eyes, then erased the rest of Harry’s face so only the eyeballs remained. Harry thought it creepy, but paid attention to what the Healer was saying. “For example, nearsightedness, also called myopia, is caused when your eyeball shape prevents light from hitting your retina correctly.” The illusion’s perspective moved to look at the eyeball from one side, with yellow light coming through the front hitting the retina. Then the eyeball changed shape subtly in a few different ways, showing how small changes could be throwing it off, putting the light in front of the retina. “In order to correct your sight at the source, we need to correct the way that light hits your retina. To do that, we’re going to use a curse to remove your cornea, rendering you temporarily blind. We’ll then apply a potion directly to your eyes to regrow your cornea in the shape needed for your vision. The time needed to regrow the cornea is about three hours. You will be kept unconscious and magically bound for the duration, so you won’t feel any pain. Do you have any questions?”</p><p>Harry did, in fact, have questions. “Will I need to come get this procedure again in the future?”</p><p>“Extremely unlikely,” the Healer told him bluntly. “I’ve never seen the procedure fail or be undone.”</p><p>“Anything I should avoid afterwards? Will my eyes be extra sensitive to light for a while?”</p><p>“Your eyes might be somewhat sensitive to light for a few days, as you acclimate,” the Healer admitted. “But beyond that, no other side effects.”</p><p>Harry nodded decisively. “Okay. Let’s get it done.”</p><p>“Very well, Mr. Potter. Please lie down on the patient table.” Harry rose from his chair and did as he was told. “When you wake, your vision will be fixed. <em>Stupefy.</em>”</p><p>A gentle jet of red light hit him, and he knew no more.</p><p>Harry woke up suddenly, but his eyes were covered, and his body was frozen. It took him only a few seconds to remember what was going on. Right, he was getting his eyes fixed. He relaxed.</p><p>“I can see you’re back with us, Mr. Potter. One moment while I undo your bindings. Please do not remove your eye coverings.”</p><p>Harry recognized the Healer’s voice as the one who had talked to him about the procedure earlier. He felt his body unfreeze, and purposely did not move. “Thank you, Healer. Did everything go well?”</p><p>“It went quite smoothly. Please sit up.” Harry did so. “I am about to remove your eye coverings. Remain calm, and keep your eyes closed.”</p><p>“Yes, Healer.” A moment later, Harry felt the wrapping vanish from in front of his eyes, but he followed instructions.</p><p>“You may open your eyes.”</p><p>Harry did so, blinking a couple of times. “Er, Healer? I can’t see anything at all. It’s all black.”</p><p>“That’s good. It’s standard procedure, to gauge your light sensitivity. I’ll be increasing the light in the room incrementally.”</p><p>Ten minutes later, Harry had completed all the post-procedure testing, and was extremely happy with the results. He could see clearly without glasses anymore! He thanked the Healer, who simply smiled and waved him on his way. One quiet call to Flippy, and Harry was back at Privet Drive.</p><p>He quickly made his way to the bathroom to see how he looked without glasses, and was surprised to see that it made quite a bit of difference. He thought he might look a bit more like his mother, now. Actually, that gave him an idea…</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Day 89 – September 1, 1992</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Harry returns to Hogwarts, and learns a nifty spell aboard the Express</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>At 9:45 a.m., Harry quietly boarded the train at Platform 9 ¾, his fingers itching to start using magic. Having let Hedwig out to fly to Hogwarts on her own, Harry only had to worry about his trunk and her empty cage, and he got them set easily enough in an empty compartment. It looked like he was early enough that very few students had already boarded, and that suited Harry just fine.</p><p>Hardly able to wait any longer, Harry rushed to the bathroom, bringing his copy of <em>Guides to Disguise </em>and his photo album of his parents with him. As soon as he got there, he flipped the book open to where it described the Hair Style Charm, <em>Crinus Muto</em>. While it was usually taught in later years at Hogwarts, it was a relatively simple Transfiguration, the text assured, and all that was required was a clear image on what the user wanted their hair to look like. Harry wasn’t sure he’d manage it, but really wanted to try.</p><p>His goal was to charm his hair red, as close to his mother’s as he could get. He’d been told so many times that his resemblance to James Potter was uncanny, but now that he’d managed to be rid of his glasses, Harry wanted to see if he’d inherited any of his mother’s facial features. If his hair was red like hers, maybe he’d see that resemblance better.</p><p>And as a side benefit, Harry admitted privately to himself, people aren’t looking for a red-haired Harry Potter. Maybe with his hair changed, he’d manage to avoid notice for a while.</p><p>Harry read the passage describing the wand movement again, trying to make sure he got it right. He raised his wand, feeling excitement fill him as he practiced the movement a couple of times, and he was sure that his wand felt the same way. When he was confident he had it right, Harry looked in the mirror, swished his wand and pointed it at his own hair. “<em>Crinus Muto!</em>”</p><p>Harry inspected the results in the mirror. The charm hadn’t completely worked, his hair was still pretty dark, but it had definitely taken on a reddish tint. Nodding to himself, he tried again, moving slowly to get the wand movement as precise as he could, and visualizing exactly the kind of red he wanted. “<em>Crinus Muto!</em>”</p><p>That time it worked perfectly – Harry’s hair was now exactly the red he’d envisioned. “Yes!” he whispered in triumph. Then he opened his photo album and looked at a few of his pictures for reference. “Right, Mum’s hair went down to her shoulders, and looked a bit wavy… okay.” He took another couple of deep breaths and stared at himself in the mirror, trying to visualize a wavy style that wouldn’t look ridiculous on him. He had no intentions of growing his hair all the way to his shoulders, but a little extra length couldn’t hurt. He decided to experiment by just making his hair a little longer, adding the wave, and trying to tidy it up. “<em>Crinus Muto!</em>”</p><p>It felt odd, having his hair spontaneously grow a bit, but Harry was more preoccupied with seeing how he looked. His hair was now wavy, neatly styled, with a part over his left eye. The wave was enough for a lock of hair to naturally obscure his scar. It… actually looked pretty decent, Harry thought. He might try to keep this style after he had to turn his hair black again.</p><p>But did he look more like his mother now? Harry looked at his album, flipping towards some of the younger pictures of Lily. He… couldn’t really tell. Maybe a little? A little disappointed, Harry closed the album and <em>Guides to Disguise</em>, and made his way back to his compartment. At the very least, with his new hairstyle and color, and his lack of glasses, he’d be difficult to recognize as Harry Potter at first glance.</p><p>Since it looked like he’d be waiting for a while, Harry decided to crack open the next of Lockhart’s books. He’d started with <em>Travels with Trolls</em>, since he had some personal experience with them, and the shopkeeper at Taylor’s Tomes (whom Harry privately referred to in his head as Taylor, since he’d never heard differently) had been right in that the book read like an adventure story, though not one that Harry particularly enjoyed. There were too many descriptions of what Gilderoy was wearing, or how flashy something was, and it glossed over how something had worked, or why he’d chosen a particular action.</p><p>Thankfully, he hadn’t gone wrong with his decision to purchase <em>Humanoid Monsters and their Habits</em>. It had filled in a lot of the blanks left by Lockhart. For example, while intellectually slow compared to the average human, some of the more intelligent Trolls actually served as security guards in a number of places, and they had a deep abiding respect for any being that could best them in combat one-on-one. The information put Lockhart’s actions in <em>Travels with Trolls</em> into context, which helped a lot.</p><p>Harry had already gone through <em>Voyages with Vampires </em>and <em>Holiday with Hags</em> in the same manner, so he picked up <em>Wanderings with Werewolves</em> and flipped open his trusty copy of <em>Humanoid Monsters and their Habits</em> to the relevant section for reference. It was getting pretty close to 11:00, the scheduled leaving time for the Hogwarts Express, when the compartment door opened.</p><p>Hermione walked inside and calmly set up her things, then turned to Harry and primly asked, “So, Harry, when did you dye your hair?”</p><p>Harry sighed, putting away his books for a minute. “I didn’t. There’s a spell to change the color and style of your hair. How’d you know it was me?”</p><p>“I caught a glimpse of your face by lucky chance when I was checking the compartments, looking for you. I assume you were trying to hide? I must have walked past this compartment three times.” Hermione arched an eyebrow at him. “Also, what spell did you use? I don’t remember seeing that one.”</p><p>Harry handed her the copy of <em>Guides to Disguise</em>. “It’s pretty early in there. Look for <em>Crinus Muto</em>.”</p><p>“Thanks. I’ll get it back to you this evening.” She set the book to one side for later. “So why were you trying to hide?”</p><p>Harry made a face. “Just didn’t want more people looking for the Boy-Who-Lived to bother me.”</p><p>Hermione shrugged. “I guess that’s understandable. But why red hair?”</p><p>“My mother was a redhead. I wanted to see what I’d look like if I’d gotten her hair.”</p><p>“And what do you think?” Hermione leaned in, curious. “Better or worse than your normal hair?”</p><p>Harry grimaced. “Neither, really. Just different. I might try to blend them, see if I can find someplace in the middle that I like. But I’ve lived with black hair for so long that it’s a little odd.”</p><p>Hermione nodded sympathetically, reaching up to her own bushy head of hair. “Managing this is a fright,” she confessed. “But I agree, it would feel odd for it to suddenly be different.” She glanced at the compartment door. “There’s only a few minutes left before the train leaves,” she said worriedly. “Do you think Ron will make it?”</p><p>“I hope so.” Harry looked outside through the compartment window. As luck would have it, he witnessed the Weasley family running towards the train, and he chuckled. “Looks like they were just running late. They’re on the platform now,” he reassured Hermione.</p><p>The girl huffed. “Honestly!” Then she snuck a sly smile to Harry. “Should we see if Ron recognizes us with different hair?”</p><p>Harry grinned and brandished his wand. “So, what kind of style do you want?”</p><p>“Surprise me.”</p><p>When Ron got to their compartment, the train had already started on its way, and Harry and Hermione were both pretending to be engrossed in their books. Hermione’s hair was now straight, black, and not frizzy at all. After walking right past the compartment twice, he poked his head inside. “Er, have you seen my friends Harry and Hermione? Can’t miss them, Harry’s a bit short with black hair, might have a snowy owl with him? And Hermione’s got bushy hair and is probably stuck in a book by now?”</p><p>Harry looked up from his book and gave Ron a grin. “Hey, mate.”</p><p>“Harry! You jerk, you let me walk past twice!” Despite his words, though, Ron was grinning back as he came inside, putting his luggage off to the side. “Hermione, that you? How in Merlin’s name did you two change your hair? I couldn’t recognize either of you!”</p><p>Hermione looked up from her book with a smile. “Hello, Ron. Harry learned a spell to do it.”</p><p>“Nice. You gonna keep the look for the Sorting?”</p><p>“Might as well,” Harry shrugged. “I’d like to keep under the radar until classes begin.”</p><p>“I think I will, too,” Hermione said thoughtfully, running a finger through her hair. “Just for the experience.”</p><p>“Then you might as well change my hair as well, just to complete the set.”</p><p>Harry shrugged agreeably. “Any requests?”</p><p>“Just don’t make me look like Malfoy.”</p><p>Hermione set her book down again, and watched Harry curiously as he considered his options. Platinum blond was out, Ron was already a redhead, and an unnatural color would attract more attention than it was worth. Brown, Harry decided, would be fine, but there were so many shades of brown. Given Ron’s skin, a lighter brown would probably work better. As for style… Harry grinned. “<em>Crinus Muto!</em>”</p><p>Ron’s hair twisted and warped into a light brown, barely tamed mess. Hermione let out a giggle before clapping her hand over her mouth. “What?” Ron asked. “What did you do?”</p><p>“He gave you HIS hair!” Hermione told him, her voice on the verge of laughter. “It’s brown, not black, but it’s his hair!”</p><p>Ron rolled his eyes and shoved Harry playfully even as his best friend chortled. “S’what I get for asking you to do my hair,” Ron grumbled good-naturedly. “Just you wait until I learn the spell, I’ll give you my hair and make everyone think Weasley-hood is catching!”</p><p>After some shared laughter, they settled down for the trip. Hermione and Ron shared with each other what they’d been doing this summer, which Harry had already heard from their letters but didn’t mind hearing again in person.</p><p>“What about you, Harry? Besides that <em>Daily Prophet</em> release, you get up to anything this summer?” Ron asked.</p><p>“<em>Daily Prophet</em> release?” Hermione echoed. “Harry, what did you do?”</p><p>Harry quickly summarized the events surrounding Dobby stealing his letters, learning about the mail wards from Shacklebolt, and how Susan Bones had suggested a letter to the newspaper so people didn’t think him an ungrateful twit. “So, I wrote the <em>Daily Prophet, </em>and it made the front page.”</p><p>“Brought up how Muggleborn are supposed to protect themselves from cursed mail,” Ron added. “Since we can’t do magic over the summer, and you don’t have a magic adult to help…”</p><p>Hermione looked horrified. “Oh my goodness! You’re right! Were there any suggestions? I need to be better prepared for next summer!”</p><p>Harry nodded agreeably. “Basically just preventative stuff. Don’t touch mail if you don’t know who it’s from, carry it carefully with dragonhide gloves, and take the mail to the Owl Post Office in Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade so they can test it.”</p><p>Hermione nodded resolutely. “I’ll remember that. And I’ll convince Mom and Dad to get a subscription so I don’t miss out on the news again.”  </p><p>“What about your mail, Harry?” Ron asked. “Any progress on the eleven-year backlog?”</p><p>Harry groaned. “Dumbledore’s going to move it from a vault in Gringotts to someplace in Hogwarts so I can get cracking on it. I’m not looking forward to it. I expect I’m gonna have to do this every year until I can use magic outside of school.” He rubbed his forearms in phantom pain. “I’m gonna have to write so many thank you notes…”  </p><p>Ron and Hermione winced. “Anything else happen?” Ron asked gamely, trying to get Harry’s mind off of his impending pain.</p><p>“Not much more. Practiced activating the Sight – Divination magic sense – read a lot, and learned to swim. Oh, and, er…” Harry looked at them awkwardly. “I went and visited the house-elves in Diagon Alley.”</p><p>“Oh?” Hermione looked interested. “What were they like?”</p><p>“I only met one while I was there. I think the rest were busy,” Harry admitted. “But I had questions, and Flippy was able to give me the answers I needed.”</p><p>“And?” Hermione pressed eagerly, leaning forward.</p><p>Harry swallowed. “House-elves are masters of simple magics, like levitating and cleaning and transporting. But they don’t generate enough magic to survive more than five or so years on their own. They need to leech magic off of a place or person to live. If that’s not bad enough for them, they need to work consistently to stay sane.”</p><p>Hermione’s jaw dropped. “That’s… that’s…!”</p><p>Harry nodded. “Yeah, I get it. Just for the sake of survival, most of them bond to a family and work as servants. But there’s a downside to that, too. By taking in the magic of a wizard, an elf’s body becomes an extension to their will, so a wizard can force the elf to do something it doesn’t want to do. Worse still, an elf literally can’t break the bond without the wizard’s consent, so if they’re in a rotten situation they can’t get out.”</p><p>“We’ve got to help them!” Hermione cried out.</p><p>“How?” Harry asked simply. “We can’t change the way they need magic and work any more than we could change the way we need food and water. We can’t free elves that don’t belong to us, and even if we could, those elves would die from not having enough magic or work.”</p><p>“But, but it’s not right!” Hermione argued weakly.</p><p>Harry sighed. “I’m not disagreeing. But you’re smarter than me. Can <em>you</em> think of anything that we could do that wouldn’t just hurt them?”</p><p>“Better alternatives,” Hermione instantly brought up. “If elves have a choice of who to bond with, then they’ll end up with better families, and the ones who would treat an elf poorly wouldn’t get the opportunity.”</p><p>“The house-elves already have something for that,” Harry rebutted. “They have what they call an elf circle, which allows them to have a conversation with a prospective bonder where both sides are forced to tell the truth. That way an elf won’t be bonded without all the facts. They know exactly who they’re bonding with when they do.”</p><p>“Then why in Merlin’s name are there elves like Dobby?” Hermione asked in frustration.</p><p>“They were starving,” Ron answered quietly. Both Harry and Hermione shut up, turning to their friend. “I asked Mum about it once, when I learned about house-elves. A lot of wizards and witches, good and bad, have died working for and against Dark Lords in the last century. Grindelwald and You-Know-Who. Our population is growing again, but it’s slow, because a lot of purebloods choose to have only one or two children, and there’s prejudice against Muggleborn among some of the pureblood families, so a lot of Muggleborn just leave magic society altogether when they’re done with Hogwarts, which slows it down even more. We’re still maybe half the size we were a hundred years ago.</p><p>Ron took a deep breath and continued. “Anyway, there are a lot more house-elves than you think. And when a lot of house-elves found themselves free when their masters died, they didn’t have many options. With the lower wizarding population, the amount of available work and magic were way down. If you have a chance to live, but have to put up with terrible conditions… some people would take that deal, you know? So it’s not a surprise that some elves did. But some of the older elves set up extra conditions for bonding, like a large donation of magic for a period of time, in order to help feed the ones that’re starving, or for some Galleons, to buy places to house them. Sometimes both. It depended on when you asked.”</p><p>“Did it work?” Hermione whispered.</p><p>“Sort of. Some families paid up, trying to help. But a lot of families didn’t or couldn’t, so there was even less work for the elves, which I think made the problem worse.” Ron looked pained. “I have five brothers and a sister. We probably had enough work for three elves, growing up. But when Mum and Dad asked to bond an elf or two, the elves needed Galleons, and they couldn’t afford it.”</p><p>“That’s stupid!” Hermione blurted out. “You could help, but they wouldn’t take it because they wanted <em>more</em>?!”</p><p>“I know, right?” Ron agreed. “But Mum told me that some of the older elves were a lot like some older people – they’re convinced they’re right, and can’t be bothered to change their minds.”</p><p>Hermione fell silent, struck by simplicity of Ron’s words. Harry, on the other hand, knew exactly what to do. “Ron,” he said firmly, startling his friend. “Tell your parents to try again. I bonded with Flippy a few weeks ago, and he didn’t need a donation of anything. If they act fast, it might work. But if the elves need Galleons again, let me know and I’ll take care of it. It’s not like I’m using the money anyway.”</p><p>Ron’s face reddened. “Mate, we don’t do charity.”</p><p>“It’s not for you,” Harry reminded him. “It’s for the elves. Your family just gets to help someone they were trying to help anyway.”</p><p>Ron thought about that for a minute, then nodded slowly. “Okay. I’ll ask.”</p><p>“I’d ask my parents too, but house-elves need magic, so they’d have to bond to me,” Hermione said apologetically. “Maybe I can try next summer?”</p><p>“I will too,” Ron jumped in. “Assuming that my parents don’t have a couple by then. I don’t exactly have work of my own.” He eyebrows furrowed. “Hold on. Harry, what kind of work are you giving Flippy?”</p><p>“The Dursleys are taking care of that for me,” Harry explained. “Some consistent Muggle work: maintaining the garden, cooking and cleaning around the house. Flippy promised to let me know if he needs more.”</p><p>“Have you thought about having Flippy help you with the fanmail? There’s eleven years’ worth of letters there, after all. That’s gotta be a lot of work.”</p><p>“I thought about it, but I wasn’t sure if that was the right thing to do,” Harry admitted. “People sent their mail to me. Letting my elf deal with it seems kinda, I dunno, entitled? Unappreciative? Anyways, Dumbledore pointed me at the new Defense Professor, Gilderoy Lockhart. Apparently he’s also pretty famous, and might have some tips on how to deal with the fanmail without hurting my public image.”</p><p>Hermione frowned. “It seems awfully dishonest for a Defense Professor to assign several books that he’s written as course materials. I mean, from the books it sounds like he definitely knows what he’s doing, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he made a small fortune this summer. Don’t pick up any bad habits from him, Harry.”</p><p>Now that she mentioned it, Harry had to agree. “I’ll take his advice with a grain of salt,” he promised.</p><p>Just then, the compartment door opened. Harry looked up to see Draco Malfoy walking inside, flanked by his ever-faithful companions, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. He opened his mouth before actually seeing Harry, and then came to a sudden halt. He glanced at the occupants of the compartment, and then actually took a step back. “I apologize, wrong compartment. I could’ve sworn I heard Potter in here. Good day.”</p><p>Everyone stayed quiet as Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle left and closed the compartment door, going further down the train, presumably in search for Harry. “Well, that was awkward,” Harry admitted.</p><p>“But wicked!” Ron countered. “He didn’t recognize any of us!”</p><p>“He was probably looking for my hair and glasses,” Harry pointed out. “And since I got my eyes fixed this summer…”</p><p>“It likely won’t work again,” Hermione cautioned, before smiling. “But it was nice not to deal with him.”</p><p>Harry couldn’t argue with that.</p><p>Hours later, the train finally arrived, and Harry joined Ron and Hermione in one of the horseless carriages that would carry them to the Great Hall for the Opening Feast. It was only as they sat down at the Gryffindor table that his year-mates realized exactly who they were.</p><p>“Harry?” Dean asked incredulously. “Is that you?”</p><p>“Yep,” Harry replied, popping the “p” with relish.</p><p>“Wait, if that’s Harry, then… Hermione?! Ron?!” Lavender looked completely shocked. “What did you three do to your hair?”</p><p>Hermione waved away the question with a little smile. “Harry’s learned a spell to change hair colour and style. I doubt it’ll last overnight, but I’ll figure out how to do it myself soon enough.”</p><p>“There’s a spell for that?!” Lavender and Parvati screeched together.</p><p>Grinning, Harry turned towards them. “Yeah. It’s technically a Transfiguration spell, for your hair. I’ll teach it to you tonight if you like – it’s not particularly hard. Just intent and visualization on what you want.”</p><p>Parvati grinned and sat back in her seat. “That’s going to save me so much time…” she breathed happily.</p><p>Harry took the opportunity to look up at the staff table, looking to identify Professor Lockhart, and was startled to see the new Professor looking back at him in a considering way. Lockhart gave him a friendly-looking smile and a wave, and Harry hesitantly returned it. Lockhart’s smile grew just a little, and then he looked away, pulled into a conversation another teacher. Well, that was promising, right?</p><p>Harry was about to look away from the staff table when he noticed that Snape was staring at him too, his face almost white it was so pale. The moment their eyes met, Snape broke eye contact, much to Harry’s confusion. What was that about?</p><p>But there was no time to figure that out. The wide doors to the Great Hall swung open, and McGonagall led the first years forward, placing the Sorting Hat on its stool. Silence hung in the hall as the Sorting Hat appeared to shake itself off and began to sing:  </p><p>
  <em>You might think me foolish</em>
</p><p>
  <em>For what I’m about to say</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But we’re all on borrowed time</em>
</p><p>
  <em>There’s only so much in a day.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Oh Slytherins with their cunning,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Who are so known for their plans,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And Ravenclaws with knowledge,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Whose curiosity fill the lands. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Oh Hufflepuffs whose loyalty</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Is never second best,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And Gryffindors whose courage</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Lies firm beneath their breast.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>We need you all these coming years,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And though I Sort this night,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You’re more alike than not I say,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And together you’ll take flight. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>So put me on; I’ll put you</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Where you most belong. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Just remember who you really are,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And try to get along. </em>
</p><p>The Sorting Hat fell silent and the Hall grew deafening in its applause, but Harry’s thoughts raced. <em>We’re all on borrowed time</em>, the Hat had said. Did the Sorting Hat know about the deadline that the Morrigan had warned him about? Was there a way to talk to the Sorting Hat in the middle of school year? Would it have any insight? Harry rather doubted the last, but it was best to be sure. Maybe he could send a letter to Dumbledore, to ask?</p><p>The Sorting went rather quickly, Harry noted. Ginny Weasley, Ron’s sister, was sorted into Gryffindor like the rest of her family. After the last student was Sorted, Dumbledore stood up and the Hall grew silent once more.</p><p>“Welcome back to another year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” Dumbledore began. “I know you must be anxious to eat, but allow me a few brief announcements while I have your attention. First, let me introduce our newest Defense Professor, the esteemed adventurer and novelist Gilderoy Lockhart!”</p><p>The blond man who had waved to Harry earlier stood up and bowed with a flourish before returning to his seat. The students clapped politely, which Lockhart seemed to appreciate.</p><p>“Second, our yearly reminder to all students: the forest on the grounds is forbidden to enter without Professor escort. Finally, our caretaker, Mr. Filch, has once again asked me to remind you all not to use magic in the corridors between classes. With that, I simply say, tuck in!”</p><p>He clapped his hands once, and food magically appeared on the tables. No doubt delivered by house-elves, Harry reckoned as he quickly filled up a plate – he was starving. “Thank you,” he whispered, hoping the elves heard him.</p><p>It wasn’t long later that the feast concluded, and Harry followed Percy Weasley, one of the prefects for Gryffindor, up the stairs to the portrait of the Fat Lady that guarded the entrance to the Gryffindor dorms. “Wattlebird,” Percy told the Fat Lady, enunciating slowly and clearly for the benefit of everyone else listening.</p><p>“Right you are, dears,” the Lady said cheerfully, and her portrait swung open, allowing everyone to walk inside. While a good number of Gryffindors just went straight up to bed, Harry stayed in the Common Room – he’d promised to show Lavender and Parvati the <em>Crinus Muto </em>spell, and he didn’t like to break his word.</p><p>Harry didn’t expect, however, for all the Gryffindors in his year to stay, as well as the new first years. “Er, right then. I take it you all want to learn the spell I used to change my hair?”</p><p>The assorted students all gave sounds of approval, nodding and agreeing.</p><p>“Well, I’ll demonstrate for you. Any requests?”</p><p>“Give yourself Hermione’s normal hair!” Ron called out. The other boys laughed, Parvati and Lavender giggled, and even Hermione cracked a grin.</p><p>Harry couldn’t help but smile himself. “Well, alright. So, the incantation is <em>Crinus Muto</em>. It’s a Transfiguration spell, meaning that it transforms my hair entirely.”</p><p>“How is that different from a Charms spell?” one of the first-year boys asked.</p><p>“Charms usually do stuff without changing the nature of the thing. Like changing something’s colour, or making something float. If you make a quill green, it doesn’t stop being a quill. That would be a Charms-type spell. But if you changed it from an owl feather quill to, I dunno, an eagle feather quill, that’s a Transfiguration, because what made up the quill changed. You follow?” Harry answered him.</p><p>“Yeah, I get it. Thanks!”</p><p>“Right, so in the same way, I could make my hair thicker or thinner. I can change the length a bit, and I can change the colour. The trick is clear visualization of what you want, and an understanding of how to get there. In order for me to get Hermione’s normal hair, I need to make my hair a bit thinner, bushier, longer and change the colour to brown. But I need to be specific. How thin? How bushy? How long? What shade of brown? With Transfiguration spells, it’s easier if you’re more and more specific on what you want. Luckily, since I know what Hermione’s hair looks like, I have all the specifics I need.”</p><p>There was a round of understanding nods.</p><p>“The wand movement goes like this. I’ll do it slowly for you all, so watch carefully, and mimic it. First years, you might find this a little tricky, but it’s just a matter of practice with your wrist.” Harry demonstrated the movement, and saw the others following along.</p><p>“Actually performing the spell involves combining the three elements: visualization, wand movement, and incantation. Once you have it, you can give yourself any hairstyle you like. <em>Crinus Muto!</em>” Harry didn’t have a mirror, but after a moment, he could see his hair coming down on either side of his face, and it looked pretty similar to Hermione’s, he thought, given the snickers from the boys and the way Hermione rolled her eyes at them. “So, wanna give it a try?”</p><p>Seconds later, all of them were attempting to cast the spell. To no one’s surprise, Hermione got it fastest. But her choice in hair style…</p><p>“An afro!” Ron wheezed, laughing himself sick. To be fair, he wasn’t the only one. Seamus Finnegan was holding his gut, trying to stay upright as he struggled to breathe between his laughter.</p><p>Lavender managed to get a hold of herself long enough to voice a question. “Why on earth did you pick <em>that?</em>” Lavender asked, her voice clearly indicating how close she was to losing it again.</p><p>Hermione was blushing but smiling, apparently quite pleased with herself. “I’ve always been curious,” she justified. “There are famous Muggle women with afros in music, and I wanted to know what it felt like.”</p><p>“And?” Harry asked, managing to get his chuckles under control. “How does it feel?”</p><p>“Very top-heavy,” Hermione replied primly.</p><p>That simply set off another round of laughter, and Hermione joined in this time.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Day 91 - September 2, 1992</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Harry's first day back - and first impressions of Gilderoy Lockhart.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry woke up with a smile, already in a great mood. He was back at Hogwarts, and he could do magic! First thing to do was to renew his loan on <em>Scrying for the Sightless </em>at the library. Getting dressed, he grabbed the book and made his way down to the common room. Seeing Ginny already down there, he approached her. She had her natural hair again, and was watching the staircase to the girls’ dorms, apparently waiting for someone.</p>
<p>“Hey Ginny. Do you know if Hermione already came down?”</p>
<p>“She’s still upstairs,” Ginny answered quietly. “She promised to give me a tour of Hogwarts so I wouldn’t get lost on my first day.”</p>
<p>Harry nodded. “I’ll walk with you two for a bit, then. I need to drop by the library, but it shouldn’t take long.” He turned to face the staircase as well, waiting patiently.</p>
<p>Ginny nodded. After a moment, she bit her lip, and then seemed to muster her courage. “Harry? Have you seen my diary? It was missing when I got to my dorm room last night.”</p>
<p>Harry blinked. “That’s odd. No, I haven’t. But boys can’t go up the girls’ stairs, or so I hear. Did your trunk show signs of tampering?”</p>
<p>“Sort of?” Ginny sounded hesitant. “It was like everything got taken out, and then put neatly back in. Like the diary was the only thing they wanted. But I don’t know how anyone would have known about it, or why they would want it at all. It’s odd.”</p>
<p>“That <em>is </em>odd,” Harry agreed. “It’d be one thing if you just forgot it at home, but if your trunk looks different from how you left it, that’s…” Harry trailed off, belatedly remembering the conversation with Dobby and Shacklebolt. Shacklebolt had talked about having the Aurors go through the student belongings during the Opening Feast, to find whatever mechanism Dobby’s master was using to “awaken the sleeping danger”. Could her diary have been that mechanism?</p>
<p>“Harry? Did you think of something?”</p>
<p>Harry licked his lips, nervously trying to come up with how to ask without sounding offensive. “Ginny… did your parents buy that diary for you?”</p>
<p>“I don’t remember them buying it, but they must have while we were Diagon Alley,” Ginny said unsurely. “It was a secondhand diary, belonging to a boy named Tom M. Riddle. I thought my parents had got it for me just in case I got lonely or wanted someplace private for my thoughts. It appeared in my books when my parents bought my school supplies.”</p>
<p>“Did anything… unusual… happen that day?” Harry’s heart was beating a little faster.</p>
<p>“Well, my Dad got in a fight with Lucius Malfoy at the Lockhart book signing,” Ginny said. Then her face slowly took on a look of horror. “And Malfoy was touching my books! Do you really think he put it in there?”</p>
<p>“It makes sense. Listen, don’t ask how I know, but I heard over the summer that the Aurors were going to make an inspection of student belongings while everyone was at the feast last night,” Harry whispered, lowering his voice so as not to be overheard. “There was an anonymous tipoff that an especially dark item was going to be smuggled to Hogwarts, so the Aurors wanted to nip it in the bud. Sounds like that diary might’ve been it.”</p>
<p>Ginny went pale. “Am I going to be arrested?” she squeaked.</p>
<p>Harry shook his head violently no. “No way. Think about it, if they were going to arrest you, they’d have done so already. They might want to ask you a few questions, though, but they’d have to ask your parents first, right? And even if that happens, all you have to do is tell the truth, yeah?”</p>
<p>“Yeah… yeah, you’re right. You’re right.” Ginny took a few deep breaths. “I hope I never see that stupid diary again. Ruddy Malfoys.”</p>
<p>“I agree completely,” Harry told her. “Ruddy Malfoys.”</p>
<p>“Why are we cursing the Malfoys this morning?” Hermione’s voice asked exasperatedly.</p>
<p>“Because they deserve it,” Ginny said, offering no real explanation.</p>
<p>Hermione pinned her gaze on Harry, and he quickly explained the whole thing. At the end, she sighed. “Very plausible, but impossible to prove. Planting some evil thing on an enemy family to pin responsibility on a danger to the school on them… ruddy Malfoys, indeed. It’s lucky that Dobby was able to talk to an Auror. I have no idea what sort of danger to the school could have risen from a diary, but I don’t want to know.”</p>
<p>“Could have been almost anything,” Ginny told her with a frown. “It was a magic diary, I could tell that much from the beginning. It could reply to what I wrote down. Like having a secret friend who was always on my side. I should’ve known better. Dad always says not to trust something that can think for itself unless you know where it keeps its brain.”</p>
<p>That sounded like particularly excellent advice in the magical world. Harry made a mental note to remember it. “Well, there’s nothing we can do about it for now. I hear you promised Ginny a tour?”</p>
<p>Hermione brightened. “Yes! Would you like to come along with us?”</p>
<p>Harry smiled. “Absolutely. You ready to go?”</p>
<p>Hermione was reasonably thorough with her tour, and with Harry gave Ginny little tips on how to navigate Hogwarts that they’d picked up over the last year. Like the staircase with the trick step, and how to identify which doors weren’t actually doors but walls just pretending. They did make it to the library, at which point Harry quickly walked over to Madame Pince, showing her that he’d kept good care of <em>Scrying for the Sightless</em>. On seeing that, and seeing that there were other copies in stock, Pince allowed Harry to check it out for another few weeks.</p>
<p>They finished showing Ginny where all the classrooms were, and had just sat down in the Great Hall for some breakfast when Professor McGonagall strode down to them from the staff table. “Mr. Potter, I need a few moments to speak with you. Rest assured, you are in no trouble. Come along.”</p>
<p>Harry blinked, then nodded. “Yes, Professor. Hermione, save me a plate?”</p>
<p>“Of course.”</p>
<p>Harry followed Professor McGonagall outside of the Great Hall and into an empty classroom. She took a breath to steady herself, then looked at Harry with an expression both fond and stern. “Mr. Potter, it’s come to my attention that you taught yourself, and the first and second year Gryffindors how to perform minor Human Transfiguration, last night.”</p>
<p>Harry blinked. “What? Hair counts as Human Transfiguration?”</p>
<p>“Indeed. It is among the easiest of all Human Transfiguration, to be sure, but Human Transfiguration is taught in sixth year, and it’s supposed to be much, much more difficult than you all should be capable of at your age. Can you demonstrate it?”</p>
<p>“Yes, Professor. <em>Crinus Muto</em>.” He carefully waved his wand and changed his hair back to what it had been yesterday.</p>
<p>“Remarkable. Truly remarkable. I must ask, how did you learn it?”</p>
<p>“I, er, I bought this book called <em>Guides to Disguise</em>. It’s one of the first things in there.” Harry looked down, a little embarrassed. “I figured that if I could change my hair colour, it’d be harder for people to recognize me. And I wanted to see what I would look like if I had my mother’s hair. The spell didn’t look that difficult, and from your lectures last year, you said Transfiguration was easier if there are more similarities between what you’re starting from and what you’re trying to end with. I figured human hair to human hair was about as similar as you could get, so I didn’t expect it to be difficult.”</p>
<p>McGonagall was quiet for a moment. “Well,” she said, a little more softly, “let me say that you did resemble your mother quite strongly when I saw you at the feast. And congratulations on getting a leg up on one of the hardest branches of Transfiguration. Would you be averse to demonstrating your skill to my sixth year Transfiguration classes, when we reach that point? One of the first Human Transfigurations I teach is how to change eyebrow colour, and I suspect that knowing that a second year can do it may provoke some of them into actual effort.”</p>
<p>Harry bit his lip. “Could I bring Hermione with me? She can do it too. I don’t want people thinking that I can do it just because I’m Harry Potter.”</p>
<p>McGonagall nodded swiftly. “Of course. Good thinking. Take two points to Gryffindor for sound judgment, and ten more for outstanding teaching of your fellow students. But please do not pursue any more Human Transfiguration for the time being. It can be very dangerous, and I would rather be there to supervise.”</p>
<p>“Yes, Professor,” Harry acquiesced. “Does that mean I should stop using the spell?”</p>
<p>McGonagall shook her head negatively. “No, your cast was perfect, and you appear to have a solid grasp of its use. Feel free to use <em>Crinus Muto</em> if you wish, just don’t try to expand out to other Human Transfiguration. In a few more years, should you continue to do well in Transfiguration, you’ll have enough experience that I would be quite pleased to help you explore Human Transfiguration, and perhaps even the Animagus transformation.”</p>
<p>Harry looked up at her with a grin. “That would be brilliant!”</p>
<p>McGonagall graced him with a rare smile. “I look forward to it. Now, off to breakfast with you. I’ll be by soon with your class schedules.” Harry turned to go, and was almost out the door when McGonagall spoke up again. “Actually... please stay one more moment.”</p>
<p>Harry turned around again. “Professor?”</p>
<p>She hesitated, apparently trying to find the words. “I was in the library at the end of last term,” she confessed. “I was returning some Transfiguration texts I’d checked out for reference when I accidentally overheard you, when you told Miss Granger about why you wanted to learn Divination.”</p>
<p>Harry flushed and looked down. He’d intended that to be private, but he could hardly blame McGonagall for being there at the time.</p>
<p>“I understand wanting to get to know your parents, wanting to, to honor them,” she said slowly. “And I know that few of us, the Professors at Hogwarts, have told you anything substantial about them. It’s… difficult for us. The professional thing to do, what we’ve been taught to do for everyone’s protection, is to try and ensure that all relationships between students and faculty don’t go beyond trusted Professor and student. Because if we don’t, then it’s too easy to start playing favorites, and that’s not fair for the rest of the students. Merlin knows we don’t always succeed, but we’re supposed to try. But our actions have left you without any real knowledge of who they were. Normally, that role is supposed to fall to your extended family and their friends, but clearly that’s never been an option for you. For my role in leaving you in this situation, I apologize. I can’t promise I’ll be able to tell you everything, and my roles as Head of Gryffindor, Deputy Headmistress and Transfiguration Professor leave me with precious little time, but I will set some time aside for you before the month ends.”</p>
<p>Harry swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump in his throat. He’d never had an adult apologize like this, where they actually sounded like they meant it. “Thank you,” he whispered, knowing the words were insufficient, but hoping that somehow his gratitude could be conveyed.</p>
<p>McGonagall nodded, her normally stern face looking just a little tender. “Now then. Off you go. Best get some breakfast in you before you face the rest of the day.”</p>
<p>-------</p>
<p>True to her word, McGonagall returned to the Great Hall and passed out course schedules a little while later. Ron, who had joined the rest of them a few minutes before, looked at his curiously while shoveling down a forkful of eggs, and Harry inspected his carefully. “Double Herbology with the Hufflepuffs this morning,” Harry muttered. “Then Transfiguration, lunch, and finally DADA with Lockhart – wonder what that’ll be like.”</p>
<p>“Well, he’s done an awful lot with various creatures,” Hermione mused, “so maybe he’ll be teaching us about them? Ginny, do you want to compare notes after you’ve had him? We had a different teacher last year, so maybe he’ll be going over things in a different order.”</p>
<p>“Sure,” Ginny agreed easily.</p>
<p>“Might not be a bad idea to check with Katie, too,” Harry suggested. Katie Bell was a third year Gryffindor, only one year above Harry, and a Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He was about to suggest that maybe he could ask her at practice, but then he realized that there wouldn’t be any Quidditch practice for at least a few days, and there was no guarantee he’d remember by then. Remembering his promise to himself to be a little more social this year – “<em>it’s startlingly easy to become friends with no one”</em> Harry remembered the STEM column advice saying <em>– </em>Harry realized that he’d have to actually go start a conversation with her that wasn’t about Quidditch.</p>
<p>He glanced around, and spotted Katie a fair way down the table, eating with the other Chasers, Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet. Gathering his courage, Harry got up and began walking over to them. “I’ll be right back.”</p>
<p>The Chasers spotted him approaching when he was still several feet away and waved him over. “Hey Harry,” Katie greeted. “What’s up? Don’t tell me that Oliver’s already wanting a practice session!”</p>
<p>Harry laughed. “No way. I’m sure he’ll get to us soon, though. I wanted to ask if you ladies would help me and my friends out. You know how we get a new DADA Professor every year, yeah?”</p>
<p>A trio of nods. “The curse on the position,” Katie said simply. “What about it?”</p>
<p>“Well, that means Lockhart probably won’t last beyond the year. If he turns out to be a decent teacher, would you mind sharing your notes with us? Just so we have something to go off of in case next year’s – and the year after’s,” Harry amended, with a nod to Angelina and Alicia, “teachers are terrible?”</p>
<p>The Chasers exchanged looks. “Only if you do the same for us,” Katie stipulated. “Quirrel was bad enough, but you should have seen the teacher before him.” Both the other Chasers shuddered. “It’d be good to have some review of what we’re expected to know.”</p>
<p>“Done,” Harry agreed. “We’ve got Ginny Weasley to cover first year, Hermione, Ron and myself for second year. And now you three for third and fourth year.”</p>
<p>“Here’s hoping that Lockhart lives up to his reputation,” Angelina muttered.</p>
<p>“I’m sure he will,” Alicia said brightly.</p>
<p>Angelina rolled her eyes. “Just because you think he’s handsome doesn’t mean he’s good at teaching.”</p>
<p>“We’ll just wait and see,” Alicia replied in a tone that said quite clearly that she didn’t want to fight about it, but that her mind wouldn’t be changed easily.</p>
<p>“Anyway,” Katie interjected, pulling Harry’s attention back to her. “There’s not much time left in breakfast. You should probably get ready for your first class.”</p>
<p>“Right. See you later!”</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>On the way to Herbology, Harry heard a somewhat-familiar voice call his name. “Harry!” He turned to the side to see the second-year Hufflepuffs nearby, also walking towards the greenhouses.</p>
<p>With that clue, he was able to identify the person who had called out to him. “Susan!” Harry waved. “Good to see you.”</p>
<p>“What happened to your hair and glasses?” Susan asked in a playfully accusing voice as their groups came together. “I almost didn’t recognize you!”</p>
<p>Oh, right, he hadn’t changed his hair back after meeting with McGonagall. “One sec. <em>Crinus Muto</em>.” One wand movement later, and Harry had returned to his old hairstyle, though a little more tamed. “I got my eyes fixed over the summer, and learned that nifty spell to change my hair a bit.”</p>
<p>“Wait, wait,” Ron interrupted. “I don’t get it. Harry, Susan, you two weren’t friends before summer break, I don’t think. When did you two get all chummy?”</p>
<p>Hannah Abbot, a blond Hufflepuff that Susan had told Harry about in her letters, nodded along, looking at Susan curiously. “I’m with Weasley on this one. What happened, Sue?”</p>
<p>“We just became quill pals over the summer,” Susan explained with a smile. “He wrote me a nice thank you for the treats I donated while he was in the Hospital Wing, and we just began writing each other.” She looked at Ron and Hermione with a smile. “I’m glad he’s got good friends.”</p>
<p>“Same goes for you, you know,” Harry told Susan, his lips quirking into a half-smile. “I’m hoping we’ll have the chance to hang out more. With any luck, this year will be nice and quiet.”</p>
<p>Ron put his hands behind his head, looking up at the sky. “Yeah. No Philosopher’s Stone, no three-headed dogs, no evil plots…”</p>
<p>“And no Hospital Wing visits,” Hermione wished wholeheartedly. “No offense, Harry, but I hope you won’t need to go back at all this year.”</p>
<p>“I am one hundred percent in support of that idea,” Harry affirmed, but left it at that. They’d just reached the greenhouses, where everyone else was already there and waiting for Professor Sprout to arrive. It was nearly time to start class, so where was she?</p>
<p>It took a couple of minutes, but Professor Sprout came striding in across the lawn, accompanied by Professor Lockhart. Professor Sprout was a short, stocky witch, whose robes and fingernails were usually covered in one form of dirt or the other – an occupational hazard of being the Herbology Professor. Professor Lockhart, on the other hand, looked absolutely pristine in turquoise robes, his golden blond hair shining in the sunlight.</p>
<p>“Hello there!” Lockhart said cheerfully. “Sorry for holding up your class; I was acquainting myself with Professor Sprout’s collection of more dangerous plants. I had a few ideas for DADA classes, but wanted some input from a master. I’ve run into a few exotic plants on my travels and wanted to see what she kept here at Hogwarts.”</p>
<p>Professor Sprout smiled and nodded. “We have a great many species at Hogwarts, but it would be nearly impossible to cover every kind of magical plant in existence in the seven years you attend. But not to worry, students, I’ll be there to guide you. Now, everyone off to greenhouse three, please!”</p>
<p>“Speaking of guiding,” Lockhart joined back in, “is there a chance I could borrow young Mr. Potter for a minute? I’ll have him back right quick.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I suppose. But only for a minute.” Sprout flashed him a smile, and Lockhart grinned right back with his pearly whites. “Remember, Mr. Potter, greenhouse three.” She quickly led the rest of the students over to the greenhouse in question, which, if Harry remembered correctly, had been said to contain more dangerous plants than they’d handled the previous year.</p>
<p>Lockhart jumped right into it. “So, Harry – can I call you Harry, by the way?”</p>
<p>“Er, sure?” Given how McGonagall had just talked about how Professors were supposed to maintain a proper Professor-student relationship, this seemed rather odd, but Lockhart was new, Harry supposed. He can’t have had much training or experience in teaching.</p>
<p>“Right. We’ve only got a minute, but we need to schedule when to deal with your fame and fan mail. I figured you probably wanted this sort of talk kept private, from the way you changed your hair. <em>Crinus Muto</em>, right? Dreadfully useful for not being spotted when you’re just trying to get your groceries. Good initiative, that’ll serve you well.”</p>
<p>Harry looked up at Lockhart with wide eyes, feeling a bit like he’d just found a kindred spirit. Did… did he actually understand? “I bet it is, sir. I can’t really use magic over the summer, though.”</p>
<p>“Of course, of course. Now, Harry, the Headmaster told me that you could use some tips on how to manage your fame, and how to deal with that enormous backlog of fan mail. Goodness, that can get cumbersome fast,” Lockhart commiserated, a light frown marring his otherwise handsome face. “Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I’m working with the Headmaster to get your backlog moved to an empty section of the castle so we can get cracking on it. Can you meet with me this Saturday around, say, eleven? There are some spells I want to teach you that will help you enormously, and believe you me the longer you take to get through it all the worse your public perception becomes, and that’s the last thing you want.”</p>
<p>“Absolutely,” Harry agreed instantly. “Saturday at eleven.”</p>
<p>“Excellent. I’ll see you in class this afternoon, Harry. Best be off to Herbology before Professor Sprout decides to throw a Venomous Tentacula at me for keeping you.”</p>
<p>Laughing at the mental image, Harry ran off to join the others in Herbology.</p>
<p>“Right then,” Professor Sprout began as Harry walked in. She was standing next to a trestle bench with lots of very fluffy, colored earmuffs – enough for the whole class and then some. “We’ll be repotting Mandrakes today. Now who can tell me about Mandrakes? Specifically, what they’re used for.”</p>
<p>Naturally, Hermione’s hand went up, but so did Neville’s. Sprout picked Neville first. “Mandrakes are used in restorative potions,” Neville said quietly, but loud enough for everyone to hear him. “They’re used on people who have been Transfigured or cursed, to put them back to how they were before. But they take most of a year to mature.”</p>
<p>“Perfect. Take ten points to Gryffindor. Mandrakes form an essential part of most antidotes where Transfiguration or curses are involved. And Longbottom is absolutely right that Mandrakes have a very long maturation time, which is why Hogwarts is only one of several locations that grow them year-round, with each location staggered so as to make Mandrakes available to St. Mungos no matter what time of year it is. However, Mandrakes have a very powerful self-defense mechanism, which make it extremely dangerous to the unprepared. Can someone else tell me what it is?”</p>
<p>Hermione’s hand went up again, and this time Sprout called on her. “The cry of a Mandrake is fatal to those who hear it,” she said promptly.</p>
<p>“Precisely. Take another ten points. Now, that is why we have these earmuffs handy today. The Mandrakes we have here are very young, so their cry won’t kill you, but it’s certainly enough to knock you unconscious for several hours, which I’m sure you’d all rather avoid. Now, come closer and have a look at our Mandrakes.”</p>
<p>The class shuffled forward, and looked at where Sprout was pointing. There were about a hundred tufty purplish green plants, looking quite unremarkable. Harry frowned and activated his Sight, focusing on one of the plants before him. What was it? What was underneath the soil? The tingle of Divination magic hit his eyes and brain, and Harry’s eyes widened as he saw a glowing outline in the soil where the rest of the Mandrake was. Oh! Those tufts were basically hair for a… plant baby? It looked like it was sleeping.</p>
<p>“Everyone take a pair of earmuffs,” Sprout directed. There was a brief scramble as everyone tried to grab a pair that wasn’t pink and fluffy. Harry ended up with a decent pair of blue ones. “When I tell you to put them on, make sure they cover your ears completely. You’ll know it’s working if you try to say something and you can’t hear it. Once you do, give me a thumbs up and we’ll continue. Do not, I repeat, DO NOT take your earmuffs off until I give you a thumbs up in return. Am I understood?”</p>
<p>“Yes, Professor,” the class chorused.</p>
<p>“Good. Now, earmuffs on.”</p>
<p>Harry snapped the earmuffs over his ears, and marveled at the absolute silence that had descended on his world. “Testing,” he said aloud, and heard nothing at all. He gave Sprout a thumbs-up, and she nodded at him. Only a minute later, Sprout said something – likely a verification that everyone had their earmuffs working – then snapped her own fluffy pink earmuffs on. She then rolled up her sleeves, took a firm hold of one of the Mandrakes’ tufts, and pulled hard.</p>
<p>Harry’s Divination had been perfectly accurate. The Mandrake resembled nothing more than an ugly, muddy, pale green baby, screaming its heart out. Despite its lack of anything resembling cuteness, Harry felt a little sorry for it. It had been perfectly happy sleeping in its pot, and then Sprout had woken it up none too gently.</p>
<p>Sprout took a large plant pot – significantly larger than the pot the Mandrake had been in – out from under the table and swiftly plunged the Mandrake into it, burying the baby in dark, damp compost until only its tufty leaves were visible. Sprout then dusted off her hands, gave a thumbs up, and took off her earmuffs. Harry did the same, but glanced at the Mandrake that had been repotted, activating his Sight again. The baby was still clearly upset, but no longer screaming. It seemed to be trying to settle back down to sleep.</p>
<p>“And that is how you repot a Mandrake,” Sprout said simply. “Any questions?”</p>
<p>Harry raised his hand, and Sprout quickly called on him. “How large do Mandrakes grow? Are they going to need repotting again later in the year?”</p>
<p>“Excellent question!” Sprout praised. “They grow to about double their current size when they’re fully matured. And they will need repotting again around Christmas.”</p>
<p>“Why not just give them a larger pot to start with?” another Hufflepuff – Justin Finch-Fletchley, if Harry remembered right – asked.</p>
<p>“Herbology studies have shown that their restorative properties are most potent if their care is analogous to humans while growing,” Sprout explained. “So when they’re sprouting from seeds, a smaller pot is necessary, as it effectively swaddles the baby. As they grow larger, larger pots are needed for room to grow and mature.”</p>
<p>“Wait, so they really are basically babies? Are there ways to repot a Mandrake that don’t wake it up?” Lavender asked with a sympathetic look at the larger pot Sprout had used.</p>
<p>Sprout shook her head sadly. “Many have tried, but as soon as their face is above the ground, no matter how gently it’s done, the Mandrake always wakes. Normal spells to induce sleep don’t seem to work at all, and potions that give similar effect in humans give the Mandrake rashes. It’s fascinating, really, but unfortunate for the poor Mandrakes. It’s best just to do it quickly, if you can, so that they can go back to sleep. Anyone else? No? Alright, earmuffs on. I’ll get your attention when it’s safe to pull them back off.”</p>
<p>And so they got to work. Despite knowing there was nothing else he could do, Harry couldn’t help feeling a little guilty as he pulled his first Mandrake out of the pot. Judging from the expressions on some of the others’ faces, his fellow students felt similarly.</p>
<p>However, after that Harry didn’t have the time to feel guilty – Professor Sprout had made it look easy but it really wasn’t. While the Mandrake was screaming its lungs out about being pulled from the earth, it didn’t seem to want to go back in either. It squirmed, kicked, flailed, and fought Harry every step of the way. Harry eventually managed, and then had to repeat the process with the next few.</p>
<p>Eventually, they finished, and Harry was sweaty, sore, and covered in earth. Sprout was able to get everyone’s attention to indicate it was safe to remove their earmuffs. “Now then, what did you learn from the experience?” Sprout asked.</p>
<p>“That Mandrakes are feisty little buggers,” Seamus Finnegan volunteered, and the rest of the class chuckled tiredly at that.</p>
<p>“Very true!” Sprout agreed with a grin. “Anyone else?”</p>
<p>“That it takes a lot of strength and stamina to be a good Herbologist,” Neville suggested.</p>
<p>“That’s the other big takeaway from this,” Sprout concurred. “Herbologists cannot rely on magic alone to do their job. There are many plants, like the Mandrake, that require brute muscle and physical dexterity. There will be more like this in the coming years, so I do suggest that you all work on your bodies as well as your magic, or you will be in for a difficult time when you reach your OWLs. Class dismissed.”</p>
<p>Everyone traipsed off to the castle to take a quick shower, and then the Gryffindors made their way to McGonagall’s classroom for Transfiguration. After a quick review of the last lessons from the previous year, McGonagall assigned them the task of turning beetles into buttons, distributing beetles to every student.</p>
<p>Harry was glad he’d been reviewing his schoolbooks during his moments of boredom this last summer; as he was familiar with the theory, it only took him a few tries to Transfigure his first beetle, despite the beetle attempting to avoid his wand tip. McGonagall inspected it, and with a nod of approval she provided another for him to practice with. Ron was having more difficulty, but he too managed the Transfiguration before the end of class.</p>
<p>After lunch, Harry, Hermione and Ron went outside to the courtyard to enjoy some fresh air before DADA with Lockhart. Hermione pulled out her copy of <em>Voyages with Vampires</em>, flipped open to wherever she’d left off, and began reading. Figuring that reviewing for their next class was probably a good idea, Harry got out his copy of <em>Wanderings with Werewolves</em> and <em>Humanoid Monsters and their Habits</em>.</p>
<p>“Seriously?” Ron complained.</p>
<p>“We do have Lockhart’s class next,” Harry pointed out. “Probably best if we’re at least passingly familiar with his books. Besides, he didn’t seem like a bad bloke before, when we talked.”</p>
<p>“What did he want, anyway?” Hermione asked, turning a page.</p>
<p>“He wanted to schedule some time to teach me how to deal with my fan mail. I’m meeting with him Saturday at eleven.”</p>
<p>Ron shook his head. “More lessons on the weekend? I don’t envy you, mate.” Seeing that Harry and Hermione weren’t going to change their minds, he reluctantly pulled out <em>Traveling with Trolls</em> and began reading.</p>
<p>Several minutes later, Harry felt a prickle down his neck. He was being closely watched, but where…? Harry looked around, and saw Colin Creevy, a mousy-haired first year Gryffindor. Colin had managed the <em>Crinus Muto</em> spell by the end, Harry remembered. “Colin? Something wrong?”</p>
<p>Colin blushed. “Hi Harry. I was, er, I was hoping I could take a picture.” He held up what appeared to be a Muggle camera.</p>
<p>“A picture?” Harry repeated blankly.</p>
<p>“Everyone told me about you last night, after you taught us that spell,” Colin told him earnestly. “About how you’re the Boy-Who-Lived, and the lightning bolt scar, and all that. One of the others told me that if I develop my film in the right potion, the pictures will <em>move</em>! How crazy is that?” He drew a great shuddering breath of excitement. “I’m taking loads of pictures to send home to my dad, since he’s a Muggle and can’t really see what it’s like out here. And I wanted to take a picture of you, because you’re not only super famous, but you took the time to teach me a spell on the first night.” He looked down, blushing again. “You’re pretty cool, Harry. Would you mind taking a photo with me?”</p>
<p>Harry’s first gut response was to try to let him down gently, but… he remembered his own photo album of his parents. If his parents hadn’t let people take pictures of them, he wouldn’t have that album. And Colin just wanted to keep his dad up to date, it sounded like. And it was a harmless enough request. At least Colin wasn’t asking him to sign the photo. He stood up, brushing his robes off. “Yeah, alright. Make sure to make me a copy, too, okay? I’ve got a photo album I can add it to. Hermione, would you mind?”</p>
<p>“Sure thing, Harry.” Hermione set down her book gently and stood up. “You might want to turn your hair back to normal first, though. Just so Colin’s father doesn’t get confused.”</p>
<p>“Oh! Right. <em>Crinus Muto</em>.”</p>
<p>Colin was shaking in excitement as he handed the camera over to Hermione, and rushed over to Harry with the widest grin he had ever seen. He put one arm around Harry’s back, and Harry quickly took the hint and did the same with Colin. Hermione held up the camera. “In three, two, one…” The camera flashed, and a moment later Colin vanished from Harry’s side, reappearing next to Hermione, who gave him his camera back.</p>
<p>“Thank you so much!” Colin squeaked. “I’ll see you later!” And he quickly rushed off.</p>
<p>Ron got up. “I’m gonna go, too. Maybe grab a little more lunch.” He sounded off, somehow.</p>
<p>“Are you alright, Ron?” Hermione asked. Apparently she heard the same thing.</p>
<p>“I’m fine. I’m fine,” Ron repeated unconvincingly. “Just… dealing with stupid thoughts.” And before either Harry or Hermione could stop him, he strode off.</p>
<p>Hermione and Harry looked worriedly at each other. “Do you think it was about the picture?” Harry asked.</p>
<p>“I can’t see how it could be anything else,” Hermione reluctantly agreed. “I’m going to go follow him. He might open up to me if it’s about you – no offense.”</p>
<p>“Of course! You should go. I’ll see you at DADA.”</p>
<p>Hermione gave him a relieved smile, and then hurried off after Ron, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts. He had the sinking feeling that Ron was struggling with Harry’s fame, and Harry’s resolution to be more social. But if that was true, then what was Harry supposed to do? He couldn’t just stop being famous – if that had been an option last year he would have taken it in an instant. And if he didn’t deal with fans in a publicly acceptable way, then he could quickly end up socially reviled, so he couldn’t just ignore them.</p>
<p>Was Harry going to lose his friend over something he couldn’t control?</p>
<p>It was with a sick feeling in his gut that Harry trudged to DADA. He was the last to arrive, it looked like, and Ron and Hermione were already sitting together. Without making a scene about it, he gave them each a nod and sat in one of the middle rows just a bit away. Lockhart was sitting at his desk, scribbling something with his quill, and the class was absolutely quiet, waiting to see what he’d do.</p>
<p>After another minute, Lockhart set his quill down. “Right then. I have here Professor Quirrel’s notes about what you’ve covered so far. Looks like mostly theory, and some basic charms to help you get away from threats, which is what I’d expect for kids your age. I had considered giving you a pop quiz today to see what you retained from last year, but I figured we could just have a nice in-class discussion to do the same thing. Besides, that gives me a chance to actually put some names to faces. I’ve literally only just met most of you.”</p>
<p>There were a couple of giggles at that, and Lockhart gave the class a grin.</p>
<p>“So, when I call on you, please state your name, and then the answer. Here we go! Who can tell me the incantation of the Smokescreen Charm? Let’s go with… you, with the red hair.”</p>
<p>“Ron Weasley, sir. And it’s <em>Fumos</em>.”</p>
<p>“Good. Now, when would be an appropriate time to use it? Let’s go with… you.”</p>
<p>“Lavender Brown, sir. It would be useful for hiding where you are so you can run away.”</p>
<p>“Against a wizard unprepared for the tactic, you’d be right,” Lockhart agreed. “And even a number of beasts. But it can backfire if you’re up against something with a sharp sense of smell or hearing, like a werewolf. Even so, good show. Now, then, how about the incantation for green sparks?”</p>
<p>“Seamus Finnegan, sir. <em>Verdimillious</em>.”</p>
<p>“And… you. When would you use it?”</p>
<p>“Parvati Patil, sir. As a signal to call for help, or maybe to send sparks at an attacker to blind them.”</p>
<p>“Good choices. And… you. How would you change the incantation to make it red sparks?”</p>
<p>“Hermione Granger, sir. Instead of <em>Verdi-, </em>I would use <em>Ver-</em>. So the incantation would be <em>Vermillious.</em>”</p>
<p>“Excellent. Now, we use <em>Verdi</em>- for green sparks because the Latin word for green is <em>Viridis</em>, which has a similar beginning sound for us British folk. But the Latin word for red is <em>Rubrum</em>, so why would we use <em>Vermillious </em>for red sparks, instead of, say, <em>Rubrimillious</em>? Let’s go with you, Mr. Potter.”</p>
<p>Harry remembered this one – it was one of the lessons with Quirrel that had rather stuck out because it was so interesting. “Because there’s kind of red called vermillion, Professor. Vermillion, <em>Vermillious</em>. The association was too strong not to go with.”</p>
<p>“Precisely. Makes it extremely easy to remember, especially when you’re under pressure. You’ll find that’s a pattern in DADA in general – a lot of the spells that you rely on have incantations that have strong associations with the effect you want. Next question – why might you want to cast different colors of sparks? You’re up!”</p>
<p>“Dean Thomas, sir. Different colors can show up against different backgrounds. Green would show up better at sunset than red would, while red is more striking against a sunny sky. You want to use the color with the better contrast.”</p>
<p>“Excellent reasons, but I bet <em>you</em> can think of another!” Lockhart pointed dramatically at Neville.</p>
<p>“Neville Longbottom, sir. M-maybe if you were using them to communicate? Red sparks for danger, green sparks for finding something?”</p>
<p>“Well done! Good show, everyone.” Lockhart flashed another bright smile at them. “Looks like you remember the gist of what you were taught last year. I’ll assume you know how to cast those spells for now. So let’s go over what I’m going to teach you this year. Get ready to take some notes, because you’re going to want to remember this.”</p>
<p>There was a large shuffle as everyone got their quills and parchment out.</p>
<p>“Right. So, we’re going to be going over various magical creatures that you need to be able to identify, and handle in some cases. At the end of each class, I’ll tell you what we’re going to be working with next. Unless I state otherwise, your homework is to research the creature we’re tackling next class. We’ll change things up in the second half of the year, where you’ll be learning a bit about the culture and habits of various humanoids, like trolls, hags, and such.”</p>
<p>“Is that why you had us buy your books, Professor?” Hermione asked.</p>
<p>“Indeed it is! When I was going over the history of our Professors, I noticed that there was a lack of education in that area in the last several years, and felt some first-hand experience would be easier to read than some dry tome. I’ll be teaching things from my books through most of the years, with different focuses. For your year, the focus is identification and a bit of culture, and how to avoid them. But I might teach the fifth years a bit about how to handle aggressive trolls, or how to get away from a rampaging werewolf.”</p>
<p>Harry nodded along as he wrote down a few more notes. That sounded fairly reasonable.</p>
<p>“The biggest thing I want you to know about our classes, is that when it comes to hands-on exercises, I will only step in if it becomes legitimately dangerous to you. The goal of DADA is to make sure you are capable of taking care of yourself, and the best way to do that, in my opinion, is to allow you to prove to yourself that you can do it, and to instill good habits about preparedness. So, be thorough with your research, and take the time to practice your spells beforehand. Any questions?”</p>
<p>There were none, so Lockhart smiled again and nodded. “Right then. Next class, we’ll be dealing with Cornish Pixies. They’re mischievous and clever, far stronger than they look, and they almost never work alone. If you’re not careful, they’ll take your wand right from your fingers, too. We’ll end early today, so use your time wisely. I might suggest hitting the library, or perhaps asking the local expert on magical creatures, Professor Kettleburn. Class dismissed.”</p>
<p>As everyone shuffled out, Harry found that he was really impressed by the way Lockhart had handled the class. Judging from the chatter from his classmates, they shared the same opinion.</p>
<p>Honestly, if this kept up, Lockhart might just become his favorite Professor.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10: Days 92-94 (September 3-5, 1992)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Harry apologizes and loses his temper.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Day 92 – Thursday, September 3, 1992</strong>
</p><p>It was before breakfast, and Harry stood in the bathroom, looking at himself in the mirror. “Okay, Potter, you can do this.”</p><p>Harry wasn’t particularly looking forward to today, but that was a sentiment shared by nearly every second-year Gryffindor. Today they had double Potions with the Slytherins, and Harry needed to brace himself for it, and for what he knew he had to do.</p><p>Like it or not, Snape was a teacher, and in a position of power. While he and Harry had a mutual hatred that had solidified the previous year, Snape <em>had </em>saved his life. Quirrel had admitted as much at the end of the previous year – during the Quidditch match where Quirrel had been cursing his broom, Snape’s counter-cursing had been enough to keep Harry alive. On top of that, Harry and his friends had suspected Snape of being the one to curse him to begin with.</p><p>It grated on him, burned almost, to owe the man who did his level best to keep Harry miserable. But Snape was a teacher, and Harry would be learning under him for years to come. If thanking the greasy bat for saving his life, and apologizing for the misunderstanding, would prevent Snape from adding even more resentment to his treatment of Harry, then that was what he’d do.</p><p>It was just… swallowing his pride and thanking the man who kept sniping at him and treating him unfairly was hard, and Harry needed to make sure he was ready for it. If he didn’t do it properly the first time, Snape would think he was mocking him, and it would get even worse. Harry had to sound sincere, and he had to keep his cool.</p><p>Harry looked himself in the eye, took a deep breath, and rehearsed what he was going to say. “Professor Snape, thank you for saving my life last year, and I’m sorry that I thought it was you cursing me instead of Quirrel.”</p><p>Harry sneered at his reflection, trying to mimic Snape’s voice. “Potter, if I cared at all about the asinine, dimwitted thoughts of a dunderhead, I would ask you. Back to your seat.”</p><p>“Oof,” Dean said, coming into the bathroom. “Why are you Snape-ing yourself, Harry? Didn’t know you did impressions, though.”</p><p>“Trying to prepare myself for what he’s going to say when I apologize to him.” Harry shook his head. “First class of the year, you know? If I blow up at him, we’re all going to regret it.”</p><p>Dean shook his head. “I get it.” He looked in the mirror and waved his wand. “<em>Crinus Muto</em>.” His hair twisted and reshaped, giving Dean a different style. Dean frowned and shook his head. “Not right for me… Actually, Harry, Snape is always mentioning your father in his worst insults to you, and people keep saying you’ve got the Potter hair. Do you think if you change your hair to look more like your mum, it might help?”</p><p>Harry shrugged. “Couldn’t hurt. <em>Crinus Muto</em>.” He easily changed his hair to the red wavy style he’d practiced with before. He was slowly becoming more comfortable with it, but he still wanted to find something in between, something that really worked for him.</p><p>“<em>Crinus Muto</em>,” Dean cast again, watching his hair move back to how it was. “I guess this style really does suit me. At least I don’t have to worry about knots and whatnot. Thanks again for the spell, Harry. And good luck with Snape.”</p><p>Harry nodded morosely. He took another deep breath, looked himself in the mirror, and tried again. “Professor Snape, I’m sorry for thinking you were the one who tried to kill me in that Quidditch match last year. Thank you for saving me.” Harry grimaced and shook his head. It just didn’t sound right.</p><p>He spent another five minutes in the bathroom, but ultimately couldn’t find anything that sounded right. He was just going to have to wing it, Harry supposed as he trudged down to breakfast. To his simultaneous relief and dismay, Snape was not present at breakfast, so he couldn’t just get it over with.</p><p>Hermione spent her breakfast quickly reviewing her homework, while Ron tried desperately to finish his, having put it off to the last second. Harry paid them little mind as he tried to ready himself for Potions class. Finally, when there was about fifteen minutes left before class started, Harry got up to get it over with.</p><p>He arrived at the Potions classroom, noting with relief that no one else was there yet, and the door was closed. He knocked on the door, his heart pounding. After a minute, the door opened, and Professor Snape loomed over him. “Potter. You’re early.”</p><p>At least his voice sounded neutral. That was already better than some of Harry’s scenarios. “I, er, I wanted to talk to you before class started. Can I come in?”</p><p>“If you must.” Despite his words, Snape opened the door fully, and allowed Harry inside. Snape moved to sit at his desk, his eyes watching Harry’s every movement as he made his way inside to stand in front of the desk. “So, what is it, Potter?”</p><p>Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then forced himself to meet Snape’s gaze. “I’m sorry that I thought it was you cursing me at the Quidditch match last year. When my friends saw you maintaining eye contact and chanting, they thought it was you, and I believed them instead of looking for other explanations. But if you weren’t there, then Quirrel probably would have killed me that day. Thank you for saving my life.”</p><p>Snape maintained his neutral gaze for a long, long moment, though Harry thought there might be something flickering behind his dark eyes. “A Potter apologizing to me… will wonders never cease. Your father never would have, even when he was at fault.”</p><p>Harry bit his tongue, reminding himself that he didn’t know his father, and that he’d be able to see for himself eventually. He just had to practice his Divination. He took a deep breath and counted to five. When he was sure that he wasn’t going to spit back and make things worse, Harry finally replied, “I wouldn’t know, sir.”</p><p>Snape paused at that, looking piercingly at Harry. “… No. I suppose you wouldn’t.” His eyes flicked upwards to Harry’s hair. “I see you’ve rid yourself of the glasses and hair. Finally accepting that your father wasn’t someone to emulate?”</p><p>Harry’s face twisted, but he managed to bite out the words. “I. Wouldn’t. Know. Sir.” He tried to resist adding on, but his temper got the better of him and he added with just a hint of bite, “But I would appreciate it if you would stop insulting a dead man who can’t defend himself in front of me.”</p><p>Snape’s eyebrow arched. “You forget, Potter, that society judges everyone – dead or alive – and cares not a whit about your opinions. Why should I restrict myself when I have every reason to spit upon his memory?”</p><p>Harry’s eyes narrowed. “He died eleven years ago, and I never got the chance to know him. How long are you going to hold a grudge for whatever he did? You keep insulting him, but no one’s ever told me what he did to earn it. So unless you’re going to tell me then I don’t see why you can’t lay off it. Because it’s really unprofessional of you to take whatever it is out on me. Unless you want me to start researching your father and using him against you to make it fair. Sir.”</p><p>Snape’s lips thinned. “You arrogant brat. I am your Professor, and I <em>will</em> have the respect I am owed.”  </p><p>“I don’t see how I owe you any respect with the way you’ve treated me. Sir,” Harry shot back, barely bothering to keep his words civil. He’d tried, he really had, but Snape seemed to have no interest in anything less than hating Harry and James Potter. Harry placed his hands on the desk and leaned in towards Snape, keeping eye contact with him the whole time. “If you’re going to keep pulling my father into class, I will start pulling anything I can find about your family too, and I’ll spill every bit of it to my classmates. And if that doesn’t work, I’ll start asking about your school years, your best mates, your schoolboy crushes. I’ll find every humiliating thing you’ve ever been through, every poor choice you regret, and share it with the entire school. And if that STILL doesn’t work, I’ll send a letter to the paper and publish every. Single. Detail. I will go as far as it takes to make you stop – where that is, is up to you. Is James Potter worth all that, really?”</p><p>“I should be asking you the same, brat,” Snape’s silky voice intoned dangerously. “I will be your teacher here for at least four more years, assuming you aren’t expelled. I can make your life a living hell. You think I’ve been unfair with the way I’ve treated you so far? I can make it so. Much. Worse. Is defending a man you’ve never known worth risking that?”</p><p>“Except you can’t,” Harry replied confidently. “You’re not Headmaster, or Deputy Headmaster. If you start going overboard, then you’re the one who can get sacked. Not me. You might get some temporary satisfaction in taking away my time, or making Gryffindor lose the House Cup again, or even making me unable to play Quidditch. But it would be just that – temporary. Whereas my retaliation? Will be permanent. Push me, Snape, and I’ll push back. So let me turn that back on you, is insulting a child’s dead parent in front of them really worth the consequences you’ll incur?”</p><p>Snape’s hands gripped his desk hard enough to make the wood creak. “You have quite a lot of nerve, threatening me,” he whispered darkly.</p><p>“And you have none at all, picking on a child who never did anything to deserve it,” Harry hissed back. “You keep talking about my father, and maybe you’re right. Maybe he was an utter prick in school. Wouldn’t excuse the way you’ve treated me, but I notice you’ve never said a single thing about my mum. I wonder what she would say about you now.”</p><p>Snape rocked back as if Harry had slapped him. “You have no right,” he began.</p><p>“I have every right!” Harry interrupted, sneering at him in a mocking parody of Snape’s own. “I came here with an honest apology and a thank you, and you decided to make it about my father like you always do. You’re the one acting like a bully, Snape. Don’t be surprised if I start treating you like one.”</p><p>Something in his words seemed to have gotten through to Snape, because Snape broke eye contact first. “Get to your seat, Potter,” he spat.</p><p>“Professor.” Harry did his best to make the word sound like a slur, before he turned on his heel and walked back to his seat.</p><p>A couple of minutes later, students started trickling in, though if Harry wasn’t mistaken, most of them seemed to be steadfastly not meeting Harry’s gaze, for some reason. Even Draco Malfoy seemed abnormally subdued. Snape seemed to recover before class started, and his tone was as acerbic as always, but he made not a single mention of James Potter.</p><p>It was the most productive class of Potions Harry had ever had. His potion was almost perfect, too, and Snape’s expression when he took it for grading gave Harry thrills of dark satisfaction.</p><p>At lunch, however, Harry couldn’t find a moment’s peace, as all the second year Gryffindors crowded him. “Dude. What did you eat at breakfast? Because I want some! You threatened <em>Snape</em> and got away with it!” Seamus breathed.</p><p>Harry blanched. He hadn’t known they had been overheard, and if Snape found out… “Keep that mum, alright?” he hissed at them. “If he thinks I bragged about it…!”</p><p>That shut the others up pretty quick. Hermione, though, seemed a little upset. “I’m not sure you should have done that, Harry,” she told him quietly. “If he decides to test you, then…”</p><p>“Then I’ll do what I said I would,” Harry said resolutely.</p><p>“But how?!” Hermione whispered fiercely. “We’re second-year students! How on earth would you dig up anything about Snape’s past?”</p><p>Harry’s eyes glinted as he looked at Hermione. “Snape’s not a common name in either the Muggle or magical worlds. It shouldn’t be hard to find out where he lived, and his parents’ names and professions, for a start. Stuff he did in Hogwarts, though… I bet I could get some information out of Hagrid if it came to it, but I was thinking I could go through the old yearbooks in the library and find people in his year. I bet there are some Hufflepuffs or Gryffindors who might have a juicy story or two.”</p><p>“But what if he escalates?” Hermione was breathing a little harder, almost panicking at Harry’s choice of action.</p><p>“Then I will too. I already said I would. I’m not changing my mind about this, Hermione.”</p><p>Hermione wrung her hands together nervously. “Oh, I really hope you don’t regret this, Harry… Just be careful!”</p><p>Ron shook his head. “You’re crazy, mate. But I hope for your sake it works. I don’t want to see what Snape’ll do if he decides to get nastier.”</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>Day 94 – Saturday, September 5, 1992</strong>
</p><p>It was ten fifty-five in the morning when Harry knocked on the door to Lockhart’s office. “Come in, come in!” Lockhart’s voice invited, and Harry opened the door, taking a look around.</p><p>There was a large bookshelf with numerous publications – alongside Lockhart’s own – set along a wall. A giant desk with papers strewn across it was nearby, with a portrait of Lockhart himself across from it. There were comfortable lounge chairs next to a record player close to the bookshelf, and an extremely large mirror along the opposite wall. There was a blackboard on a stand between the bookshelf and the desk, thought it was blank at the moment. All in all, it looked rather comfortable, though the mirror seemed a little much in Harry’s opinion.</p><p>Lockhart was sitting at his desk, and with a wave of his wand levitated one of the comfy-looking lounge chairs opposite him. “Harry, good to see you. Glad you remembered our meeting. Sit down, sit down!”</p><p>Harry did so. “So what’s the plan, sir?”</p><p>“Well, the fan mail hasn’t finished being moved to Hogwarts yet – these things take time, you know – so I thought we’d go ahead and start with some of the basics of managing your fame.” Gilderoy gave Harry a knowing look. “Since you only just entered the wizarding world last year, you’ve done a good job on your own so far. Good show with that letter to the <em>Daily Prophet</em>, by the way, but that’s only the beginning.”</p><p>Harry grimaced. “Why are they so interested in me?” he asked plaintively. “I just want to go to school and learn like everybody else.”</p><p>Lockhart nodded with a sympathetic expression. “Unfortunately, people love their heroes. And, whether the fall of You-Know-Who was your doing or not, you became a national hero. The thing is, kid, that fame has a direct correlation with the impact to the average person. Me, I’m famous for saving some lives here and there, and writing books about it. If I really wanted to, I could fade away from the public eye simply by not writing for a decade. Maybe two on the outside.”</p><p>“But you don’t really have that option.” Lockhart gestured vaguely at Harry’s scar. “Whatever happened that night, people hold you responsible. That means they believe you saved <em>everybody</em>. They’re never going to let that go. Not for your lifetime, and probably not for your kids’ lifetime either, assuming you have any. The only way for you to get rid of your fame is to turn it to <em>infamy</em>, which you really don’t want.”</p><p>Harry slumped. “What if I disappear? Change my name and appearance after I graduate?”</p><p>“Then people will hunt you,” Lockhart said simply. “You’ll become the Elvis Presley of magical Britain. People will try to follow you in legal and illegal ways, and one day you’ll be found. And in the interim, you’d be tacitly blamed for things going wrong locally. ‘If only Harry Potter were here’, the papers will say.”</p><p>Harry scowled at the desk. “This sucks.”</p><p>“It does,” Lockhart agreed unexpectedly. “I at least have a choice, and I made a choice to become famous by spreading word of my deeds. You never had an option, and for that, you have my sympathy. But, like most unwanted conditions, fame can be managed.”</p><p>“How do you mean?”</p><p>“Well, that depends on your goal,” Lockhart said brightly. “My goal is to stay famous, so I can keep selling my books and maintain my livelihood. So, I have to stay in the public eye, but not so much as to become overexposed. But what about you? What do you want out of life? Do you want to be a Quidditch star? Minister of Magic? The next Headmaster of Hogwarts? Do you want to travel the world, be a stay-at-home parent, something in between? You don’t have to decide the particulars, just give me an idea of what kind of life you want when you’re out of Hogwarts. Go on, think on it a minute and tell me what you got.”</p><p>Harry thought about it. “I want a family someday. But travel does sound good.”</p><p>“What about what kind of work? Do you see yourself doing deskwork at the Ministry? Or maybe unraveling dangerous magics in Egypt? Do you want to write books for a living like me? Take care of magical creatures somewhere?”</p><p>The possibilities swirled in front of Harry. “Something hands-on, I think. Making something, maybe. I’m interested in learning how to make Pensieves, you know, so maybe I’ll become an Enchanter?”</p><p>Lockhart gave him a thumbs-up. “An excellent idea for one in your position! You could utilize your fame to create the initial draw of customers your way, and you’d be public enough that people can see you without needing to do much more than that. Your fame wouldn’t go away, but the novelty of your presence would. So, let’s work from the premise that you want to be an Enchanter when you graduate.”</p><p>“Okay,” Harry agreed, following along. “If I change my mind in a couple of years, will that be problematic?”</p><p>“Almost certainly not,” Lockhart reassured him. “You’ve got time yet, and besides, what you’re going to need to do while in Hogwarts won’t change much until you get closer to graduation.” Seeing Harry nod in understanding, Lockhart continued on. “So, from what I’m hearing, your goal is maintain overall good public perception, without increasing your fame, then. Does that sound accurate?”</p><p>Harry cocked his head for a moment, considering, then nodded his assent. “Yeah. I don’t want the public to think poorly of me, but I don’t really need more fame.”</p><p>“That’s perfectly fair. When people get <em>too</em> famous, there are all kinds of problems, and you can end up in the Headmaster’s situation. We’ll talk about that later, though,” Lockhart added a moment later. “So, if your goal is simply to remain in good standing, then simply put you’re going to want to be associated with good things on a semi-regular basis. Like donating money to St. Mungo’s, or starting a popular club at Hogwarts, or even something as simple as being kind to strangers in public.”</p><p>A light bulb lit in Harry’s brain. “Like how I was associated with alerting people to the whole Muggleborn issue regarding malicious mail?”</p><p>“Precisely,” Lockhart agreed, beaming. “That sort of thing lasts for months. And the fact that you’re publicly making an effort on the fan mail backlog will keep you in good standing for a good while on its own. With those alone, you’re probably good until summer of next year at the earliest.”</p><p>Harry blinked. “Only that long?”</p><p>Lockhart tsked at him. “People are fickle, Harry. It’s not about what you’ve done; it’s about what you’ve done for them <em>lately</em>. To stay in good standing, you have to be consistently good, and let it percolate in people’s minds, with little bits here and there to say ‘Yes, he’s <em>still</em> good.’ Otherwise, they’ll wonder, and start to distrust, and that can turn your fame on its head if something even a little questionable happens.”</p><p>That seemed… rather cynical, but it matched up with Harry’s memories of how the Dursleys acted. “Okay. I’ll think about what I can do over the summer to keep it up.”</p><p>“Good. Now then, Harry, I’m going to teach you some basic detection charms. You’ll want to use them for your mail, going forward. It’s amazing what a post owl will deliver – I once had a letter full to the brim of bubotuber pus.” Lockhart shuddered. “My poor hands…”</p><p>Harry decided it was better not to ask, and drew his wand instead. Quickly catching on, Lockhart drew his own, and they got to work.</p><p>Lockhart taught Harry three spells before lunch. The first indicated the materials of whatever it was cast upon; for example, in a closed envelope, Harry should be able to detect parchment, ink, and so on. If a letter contained something beyond those, then it was to be handled with care. It was a Divination-type spell, so it would require some practice for Harry to be accurate with it. Harry was looking forward to it, if he was honest.</p><p>The second was a spell that checked for potions. There would be no effect if no potions were present, but if one was found, the item would give off a glow where the colour matched the final appearance of the potion. “You would not believe how many chocolates I receive on Valentine’s Day that have been spiked with love potions,” Lockhart warned Harry. “You should get into the habit of checking your food, just to be safe. And absolutely do not trust a gift from someone you do not know personally! It’s not well known, but there are some potions that are capable of affecting you simply by touching them, or breathing in their fumes. Use this spell religiously.”</p><p>Harry nodded, a little frightened by Lockhart’s intensity, but resolving to get very good at the spell.</p><p>The third and final spell that Lockhart taught him before lunch was one that checked for enchantments that induced mental effects. “Compulsions and the like,” Lockhart explained at Harry’s confused expression. “Anything that might compromise your free will.”</p><p>“People can send those via letter?” Harry asked incredulously.</p><p>“Absolutely. It takes a lot of skill in both enchanting and mind magics, but it can and has been done before. Better safe than sorry. It doesn’t happen often, but I’ve received a few of them in my career. Let me tell you, one of the senders had a mean streak! Whoever it was sent a letter where the envelope was doused in a potion to make me more suggestible, and the letter itself was written and enchanted to try to make me kill myself.”</p><p>Harry gasped.</p><p>“Not to worry, not worry,” Lockhart reassured him. “Naturally, I didn’t touch the envelope at all, so I wasn’t affected by his magics. Besides, the person behind that one is behind bars now. Some of the ingredients for that potion are unusual, and therefore easier to track. The DMLE was able to track down the person who bought them.”</p><p>Lockhart leaned forward. “I don’t mean to scare you, Harry. But this is the reality we live in – people will be envious of our fame. No matter how wondrous you are, no matter how good you are, no matter how saintlike you can be, there will always be people who resent you, who hate you for reasons only they can understand. You need to be able to protect yourself, Harry. Let me give you the tools to do so.”</p><p>While Harry was frightened a bit by the kind of threats he needed to be able to overcome, he was more grateful that Lockhart was being upfront about it, and giving him the benefit of his experience. As soon as he’d gotten the third spell down and Lockhart declared they were done for the day, Harry stood up and looked Lockhart in the eyes. “Professor, thank you so much. I really appreciate all the help you’re giving me. It really means a lot to me.”</p><p>“Harry, Harry!” Lockhart chided warmly. “I just happened to be the best person for the job of teaching you what you need to know, in this case. As your teacher, the best compliment you can give me is to use my teachings well. And to remember me kindly when you graduate, of course.”</p><p>Harry beamed at him. “Of course!”</p><p>Lockhart smiled back and stood up, starting to walk Harry to the door. “I’ll talk to the Headmaster about where we are about your fan mail sometime over the next few days. We should have a location set by next weekend. Will the same time next Saturday work for you?”</p><p>“Absolutely.”</p><p>“Wonderful. Now, I’ve got some paperwork I’ve got to get done, but I’ll see you in class next week. Stay out of trouble, Harry, and remember to practice those spells!”</p><p>“I will,” Harry promised, and Lockhart waved him on his way before closing the door.</p><p>Harry rushed down for a bit of late lunch, feeling decidedly glad that Dumbledore had managed to hire Lockhart this year. This was shaping up to be a great year!</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Days 95-96 (September 6-7, 1992)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Harry reviews Lockhart so far with his friends, and has his next class with him.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Sunday, September 6, 1992</strong>
</p><p>Harry had spent part of the afternoon the previous day working on the spells that Lockhart had taught him, especially the Materials Analysis Charm as it was a Divination-type. It was an extremely odd sensation, as the charm directly put information in Harry’s head, but didn’t draw conclusions for him. For example, when casting on an essay he was writing, Harry got the impression of how parchment and ink felt against his fingers, instinctually knew exactly how thick it was when laid flat, and got such a sharp flash of imagery in his head that Harry felt for a moment that he could paint how the parchment looked with his eyes closed. On top of that, Harry was pretty sure he knew how long ago the parchment was made.</p><p>But the spell never told Harry specifically “parchment, ink” – it left him to figure out what it was with the information provided. Harry supposed that made sense – how was magic to know what the term was for a compilation of stuff? But even so, the spell took some getting used to, and gave him a mild headache if he cast it too often. Harry had ended up going to bed a little early as a result.</p><p>He’d taken the opportunity to sleep in, and when he made his way down to breakfast, he found Katie, Angelina, Alicia, Hermione, Ron and Ginny waiting for him. “Hey Harry,” Katie greeted. “You ready to go over our notes for the week?”</p><p>Oh, right, the Lockhart notes. Harry had almost forgotten. “Sure, yeah. Just let me grab a bagel or something and we can do that. Do you wanna grab an empty classroom, or head back to the Common Room?”</p><p>“An empty classroom would be quieter,” Ron pointed out. Everyone agreed, and they were soon settled with their parchment set out.</p><p>There was silence for a minute, with everyone expecting everyone else to start, so Harry cleared his throat and began. “Right then. Let’s take this by year, so we have a reasonable timeline, and can figure out the gaps in between. Ginny, can you tell us about your first class?”</p><p>Ginny nodded. “Professor Lockhart had us introduce ourselves, and then told us about what the goal was for us first years. He said that he would be teaching us basic charms and theory for getting away from threats and getting help, starting with the Red Sparks Charm. He also said that we’d be referencing his books for situations where basic charms like that can be used, and teaching us a bit about how to identify when something’s dangerous so we can get help.”</p><p>Harry nodded, making some notes. “Has he taught you any spells yet?”</p><p>“He started us on <em>Vermillious, </em>but not many of us got it yet. I expect we’ll keep working on it next class. I’ll keep you up to date.”</p><p>“Thanks, Ginny.” He turned to Hermione, missing the slight blush on Ginny’s face. “Hermione, I know you’ve got better notes than I do. Do you want to explain what we went over?”</p><p>“Sure, Harry.” Hermione glanced at her notes for a moment. “Simply put, we did a quick overview of the spells and theory from last year. This year, he plans to focus on basic creature identification and handling. He will be telling us what creature we are going to study next at the end of each class, but will provide assistance only if we are legitimately in danger, since he wants us to establish good preparedness habits, and to boost our confidence that we can handle situations we’re familiar with. Our next class with him will focus on Cornish Pixies. The second half of the year will involve learning about the creatures from his books – identification and culture, supposedly.”</p><p>The Chasers nodded thoughtfully. “My turn, I guess,” said Katie. “He’s got us working on similar things. Quirrel didn’t really do us any favors last year, so I think we might be a bit behind. Lockhart said that we going to be focusing on some slightly harder creatures than you lot, but first we’ve got to do some remedial work on vampires and ghouls.”</p><p>Angelina patted Katie’s arm sympathetically, while Alicia smiled and picked up where she’d left off. “Professor Lockhart has us working on our spell repertoire, and learning to duel. He said that learning how to face another human being in combat was a good way to get familiar with combat magic, so that when we do face something that could really hurt us, we’ll be a bit more ready. The second half of the year will focus on curse theory, and the theory of fighting sentient magical creatures like banshees, trolls and vampires – when to fight, and when to run.”</p><p>Ron frowned. “Does he really expect us not to duel each other until fourth year? Malfoy challenged Harry to a duel last year. I mean, he didn’t show up, but still.”</p><p>Hermione eyebrows furrowed pensively. “I don’t much like the idea of dueling at all if I’m honest. I don’t like the idea of casting magic to hurt people.”</p><p>“Think of it as more magical self-defense against other wizards and witches, instead of against a magical creature,” Alicia advised. “Besides, I think they delay it until fourth year because that’s when a lot of the students start dating, and it’s a way to safely let out some aggression from hurt feelings.”</p><p>Hermione brightened at that. “Oh, yes, that does make sense.”</p><p>Ron shook his head. “Harry, you understand, right? It’s dueling! Seeing where you stand, learning how to improve… showing what you can do!”</p><p>Harry thought about it for a moment. The idea of being able to duel Malfoy and shut his mouth up in public <em>was </em>enticing… but not as much as it had been last year. Maybe it was because his priorities had shifted, but while Malfoy was an annoying twit, he didn’t seem that important anymore. “I get it, Ron, I do. I think it’s probably good to learn the basics – no sense in not being prepared – but I won’t be able to make much time for it for a while. My schedule’s getting pretty full as it is.”  He turned towards Angelina and Alicia. “Can you teach us the basics when you get there?”</p><p>“Sure,” Angelina agreed easily. “It’ll be good practice for us, anyway.”</p><p>“Was there anything else?” Katie asked. “We want to intercept Oliver before he gets too crazy deciding our practice times. McGonagall’s supposed to be putting up potential hours after lunch.”</p><p>Harry, who had about to mention the new spells that Lockhart was teaching him, decided that keeping Oliver relatively sane sounded like a better use of time in the long term. “I think we’re good for the moment. Same time next week?”</p><p>“Works for us, assuming Oliver doesn’t try to book all of Sunday for practice,” Alicia agreed, standing up.</p><p>Katie shivered as she followed suit. “Don’t even think that near him!” Harry privately agreed.</p><p>The three Chasers left. Ron got up, ready to do the same, when Hermione grabbed his arm. “We should take the moment to practice that spell we found for Cornish Pixies. We do have Lockhart tomorrow, you know.” She looked him dead in the eye. “Besides, if you get this one down, I’m sure it’ll be useful in duels, too.”</p><p>Ron gave her a deadpan expression as he pulled his arm away. “You know, I know you’re playing me… but you’re right. It would be pretty cool to make someone freeze in mid-motion. <em>Immobulus</em>, right?”</p><p><em>Immobulus</em>, the Freezing Charm, immobilized the target, but it had the odd property of keeping them in place. Someone who was running wouldn’t fall over after being hit, but would be stuck where they were, in mid-motion. But as soon as the charm wore off, their momentum would pick up exactly where it left off.</p><p>Harry brought out his wand practiced the wand movement a couple of times, getting a feel for it. When he thought he was ready, he turned to Hermione and cast, “<em>Immobulus!</em>”</p><p>She froze in the middle of her wand motion, though it appeared her eyes could move, by the way her eyes turned to look at Harry. Ron gaped at Hermione, then at Harry. “That’s kinda scary, mate.”</p><p>“No joke. Hang on, let me undo it. <em>Finite Incantatem.</em>”</p><p>Hermione stumbled in place as she regained the ability to move, then turned to glare at Harry. “A little warning would be appreciated, Harry.”</p><p>“Sorry,” Harry said contritely. “I just didn’t see anything moving to cast on, to see if it worked, and since you said you wanted to practice, I figured you meant on each other.”</p><p>Hermione’s expression thawed a little. “Yes, well, I <em>did</em>, but I thought we’d at least warn each other first.”</p><p>“Sorry,” Harry repeated.</p><p>“Well, looks like you’ve got it,” Ron said brightly. “So you get to be our target.”</p><p>Harry groaned, but it was only fair after all. “All right, all right.” At least, though, this was a good chance to work on one of his Divination exercises. <em>Scrying for the Sightless </em>had told him to use the Sight to watch other people casting, to try to see their magical aura while they cast, and he hadn’t really made time over the last few days.</p><p>He activated his Sight and watched Hermione and Ron practice their wand movement, muttering the incantation under their breath, before Hermione nodded to herself. <em>“Immobulus!</em>” Hermione cast.</p><p>Harry thought he saw a bit of blue around Hermione as she cast, maybe the same kind of blue as the light of the spell as it shot through the air to hit him, but it was hard to tell. A moment later, he too was completely paralyzed, held in place by an immovable presence all over his body. It wasn’t really comfortable, but it didn’t hurt either.</p><p>“Can you move at all, Harry?” Hermione asked.</p><p>Harry experimentally tried to open his mouth, and found that he could move it, but only a little. His tongue worked, though. Doing his best not to move his lips and jaw more than he had to, he tried to say, “Not really”, but it came out pretty quiet.</p><p>Hermione beamed. “Oh, I didn’t even try talking while under it! Do you have any range of movement at all?”</p><p>Harry tried to wiggle his fingers, move his arms, his legs… he tried to twist his torso, turn his head, anything. He could move them maybe a centimeter, two at most. “<em>Finite,</em>” he requested.</p><p>“What was that?” Ron asked.</p><p>“<em>Finite,</em>” Harry repeated.</p><p>“Oh! <em>Finite Incantatum!”</em> Hermione cast.</p><p>As soon as the pressure vanished, Harry moved his jaw a bit, reacquainting himself with movement. “Right. Thanks. To answer your question, Hermione, the spell gives a little wiggle room, but not much. Like, enough to breathe but no more than that. I didn’t expect the way it felt, though.”</p><p>Hermione nodded in understanding. “I’m glad I’m not claustrophobic,” she agreed.</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>“Afraid of enclosed spaces,” Hermione absently told Ron. “The spell puts a feeling of pressure all of you to hold you in place.”</p><p>“Oh. Yeah, that’d be bad. Ready, Harry?”</p><p>Harry nodded, focusing on his Sight and looking at Ron intently. “Ready.”</p><p>“<em>Immobulus!</em>” This time, a translucent cloud of blue was clearly visible around Ron as he began his cast, and Harry could tell quite clearly that it was the same shade as the spell as he was hit again. “Did it work?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Harry confirmed. “<em>Finite</em>, please.”</p><p>“Coming right up. <em>Finite Incantatum</em>.”</p><p>Harry stretched a bit as soon as he had control of his body again, but he couldn’t help being pleased. Seeing magical auras was easier than he thought, and if he wasn’t mistaken, Harry could catch hints about what someone was casting before or as they cast it. He’d need to watch Hermione and Ron cast other spells to verify it, though.</p><p>“Looks like we can cast the spell well enough,” Ron proclaimed, pleased with himself.</p><p>Hermione shook her head though. “We’re not fast enough, though. The book said that Cornish Pixies are extremely agile if they can see a threat coming. We need to get faster at the wand movement if we want to hit them.”</p><p>Harry, brought back to reality by her comment, nodded thoughtfully. “Since we’ve shown we can cast it correctly, should just be a matter of practice with the wand movement, right? Making the motions correctly, but doing them faster?”</p><p>“If you get good enough at a spell, you don’t need the wand movement anymore,” Ron said, surprising Hermione and Harry both. “What? Spells that my parents use every day don’t need more than a quick point, a swish or flick at most. I almost never see them use an actual wand movement. Heck, half of the time they don’t even bother to say the incantation. And Bill, my eldest brother, swears by silent spellcasting.”</p><p>“I don’t think we’re going to reach <em>that </em>point with the Freezing Charm anytime soon,” Harry said slowly, “but I think getting there might be worth putting in some effort. Never know when you might need it.”</p><p>“I’m sure that silent casting is taught at some point in Hogwarts,” Hermione mused. “I wonder why they don’t teach it sooner? Maybe I should ask Professor Flitwick about it.”</p><p>“In the meantime, let’s work on casting faster,” Harry suggested, pulling focus back to where it needed to be. “Faster wand movements, faster speaking.”</p><p>They worked at it for another half hour, becoming more comfortable with the casting. It was a bit tricky, considering that there was an element of timing to it. If he didn’t finish the last syllable of <em>Immobulus </em>at the same moment his wand movement completed, the spell either didn’t come out at all, or was visibly weaker than it should be. So if he rushed the wand movement, he had to speed up the way he said it while keeping the right intonation, which tripped him up a couple of times.</p><p>Even so, he was reasonably satisfied by the time that Hermione and Ron agreed to stop for lunch. While they didn’t have a way to properly time it, Harry thought he’d shaved maybe half a second off of casting <em>Immobulus</em>. It would have to do, he thought.</p><p>
  <strong>Monday, September 7, 1992</strong>
</p><p>In DADA on Monday afternoon, Lockhart had a large cage full of Cornish Pixies, and the pixies were leering at the class dangerously. As soon as everyone had taken their seat, Lockhart nodded. “I do hope you all took the time to study, and figure out your strategy.” And without giving them a chance to respond, he simply opened the cage.</p><p>The pixies swarmed out, and almost before the students could blink, the pixies were everywhere. Four of them tried to break through the glass windows, only to bounce right off before tearing off after Dean and Seamus, who were still getting their wands out. Three more had grabbed Neville by his ears and hair and were lifting him in the air. Two were tugging on Parvati’s wand, trying to tear it from her hand, while a third was pulling her hair from behind. Lavender was running back towards the wall, trying to stay out of the way and succeeding admirably – not a single pixie was chasing her.</p><p>Hermione, Harry, and Ron rushed to their feet, and almost as one, whipped their wands through the wand motion. <em>“Immobulus!</em>”</p><p>Three jets of blue light rocketed out, hitting three different pixies who had been rushing at them. The pixies simply froze where they were, hovering in midair with a mystified expression on their face. From there, the three of them split up. Hermione quickly cast again, aiming at the ones harassing Neville. Ron sent another Freezing Charm at the one tugging Parvati’s hair, allowing her to focus properly on the two trying to take her wand. Harry went after the ones chasing Dean, and quickly had both of them stunned.</p><p>“Thanks, Harry. Where’s Seamus?”</p><p>“Over there!” Seamus had gotten tripped by a pixie tugging on his shoes at the wrong moment, and was sprawled over the floor. The pixie had stolen his wand, while another pixie was tugging at Seamus’s hair.</p><p>Harry and Dean quickly rushed over as Harry cast yet another Freezing Charm. Imitating Harry, Dean attempted the same, casting a weaker version. With the reprieve, Seamus got to his feet, snatching his wand from the thieving Pixie with a snarl.</p><p>Lockhart simply stood and watched it all with a vague smile on his face. “When you’re quite done, please put them back in the cage,” he called out.</p><p>Hermione had managed to get Neville down safely by that point, and Parvati had managed to get free of the two remaining pixies bothering her with Ron’s help. It only took a few seconds more to make sure that all the pixies were stunned by the Freezing Charm, and then all of them used the Levitation Charm, <em>Wingardium Leviosa</em>, to get the pixies back into the cage.</p><p>As soon as the last one was in, Lockhart closed the cage and locked it magically. “Now then, what have you learned?” he asked. There was some grumbling, and Lockhart smiled. “Now, now, let’s go through the class one at a time. Tell me what information you found about Cornish Pixies, what strategy you had in mind, and what you learned from the experience. Let’s start with… Miss Patil.”</p><p>Parvati shot an aggravated look at the pixies. “I learned that Cornish Pixies generally won’t bother people unless aggravated, that they work in groups, and that they’re unusually susceptible to magic. I was going to catch any that went at me with a Levitation Charm and just put it back in its cage, but I didn’t expect them to go for my hair. It’s <em>hard </em>to cast when you’re in pain!”</p><p>“A good lesson to learn early,” Lockhart agreed. “Pain frequently disrupts concentration, which makes it a lot harder to cast if someone is hurting you. What about you, Miss Brown?”</p><p>“I was studying with Parvati,” Lavender confessed, “but I heard that pixies in general like to go for people’s hair. I wanted to get my back up against a wall so they couldn’t get to mine, and then use spells from further away. But I couldn’t aim at any pixie from that far away, not with everyone else moving.”</p><p>“Not a terrible strategy. If you’d told the others about it, you could have attacked as a united front,” Lockhart agreed. “Under the wall of spell fire of you and your cohorts, you would have subdued them easily. But as you’ve learned, communication is very important. What about you, Mister Longbottom?”</p><p>Neville flushed in embarrassment. “I found that the Freezing Charm was a pretty effective way of dealing with them, and I did my best to learn the spell, but I was still having trouble before class started. When I was attacked, I panicked and forgot all about it.”</p><p>Lockhart nodded, flashing a more reassuring smile his way. “That happens to the best of us,” he said gently. “Sometimes, we’re put in situations we’re not prepared for, and a bit of panic is understandable. But you’ve learned that panic doesn’t really help now, does it?”</p><p>“No sir.”</p><p>“Then you’ve learned a valuable lesson indeed.”</p><p>Lockhart continued onto Dean, then Seamus, who had similar answers to Neville and Parvati, before looking at Harry, Ron and Hermione. “Considering how things went, I don’t think anyone will disagree that you three were well prepared. It’s plain to see that you three learned the Freezing Charm, but was there anything else you did to plan?”</p><p>Harry and his friends traded looks, before Ron spoke up hesitantly. “We practiced casting it faster. It wasn’t enough to be able to cast it at all, we wanted to be fast enough to be able to use it, since you said that pixies could yank our wands out of our hands.”</p><p>Lockhart looked almost delighted. “An excellent takeaway! Being able to cast something in theory is different from being able to cast in practice! Also, learning in a group is often superior to learning on your own. So if one of you is having trouble learning a spell, it’s perfectly fine to ask for help. You’ll find that a different perspective may just get you past your stumbling block.”</p><p>Neville nodded, looking a little thoughtful.</p><p>“Now then, are you saying you three didn’t plan to work together, or is that something that just comes naturally?”</p><p>Hermione bit her lip, but Harry went ahead and took the plunge. “We didn’t plan for it, no, but we’ve been working together for one thing or another for almost a year now, sir. And after the Philospher’s Stone incident last year, well…” He shrugged. “You could call it more of an unspoken agreement that we work together when we can. We trust each other.”</p><p>Lockhart nodded, looking a bit more serious. “Having a trusted team makes a lot of problems easier, especially if your strengths are in different areas. But it can also lead to resentment from your cohorts. Did any of you even consider consulting with your other classmates?”</p><p>Oh. Harry looked down in guilt and a bit of shame, barely catching the whispered “No, sir,” from Hermione. “It never even crossed our minds.”</p><p>“Do you have any thoughts on why that might be?” Lockhart pressed.</p><p>That one, Harry had an answer for. He looked up to meet Lockhart’s gaze, and nearly flinched to see his usually-smiling face still looking unusually serious. “Hermione and I were pariahs in the school for the latter half of last year. No one wanted to talk to us, let alone work with us, except for Ron and Neville. And we felt too guilty for getting Neville in trouble without being able to tell him the truth of what actually happened, so it was just Ron, Hermione and me for a while. I guess we’re just not used to having that option again.”</p><p>“Ah. That makes it a bit more understandable.” Lockhart looked around at Harry’s other classmates, and Harry followed his gaze to see that the others looked rather ashamed of themselves, with the exception of Neville, who gave Harry a half-smile. “You all ought to keep in mind that you all will be spending the next six years as year-mates in Gryffindor. You don’t have to be best mates with each other, you don’t even have to get along, but life will be a lot easier if you can work together and trust that you’ll be listened to. Something to keep in mind.”</p><p>Lockhart flicked his wand at the desks, moving them to the side of the class. “Now then. Let’s review the Freezing Charm. By the time we’re done today, I expect you all to be proficient at it. Potter, Weasley, Granger, you three will be teaching your classmates. Potter, you’re with Brown and Finnegan. Weasley, you’re with Patil and Thomas. Granger, you’re with Longbottom. Let this be a start to mending your bridges.” With that, he sat at his desk and watched them intently.</p><p>Harry swallowed, looking at Hermione and Ron and seeing that they looked equally uncomfortable. “W-well then,” Harry stammered. “I guess we should get started. Lavender, Seamus, we can take that side of the room?”</p><p>“Sure,” Seamus agreed uneasily. Lavender mutely nodded, and Harry led them over. “So, Harry, walk us through it. The Freezing Charm.”</p><p>“The incantation is <em>Immobulus</em>, as you probably heard,” Harry started. “And the wand movement is like this.” He demonstrated slowly, watching as Seamus and Lavender imitated him. “Bit wider in that middle bit, Lavender, try again. Yeah, that’s right. Seamus, it needs to be sharper on the last flick, watch me again.”</p><p>Across the room, Harry heard Hermione teaching Neville a bit of the theory. “… works by essentially holding a target in stasis. It prevents the majority of movement by…”</p><p>Ron, on the other hand, had a different style. “… want to visualize holding a person still, like you’re reaching out with a giant magic hand and holding them in a fist so they can’t move. You have to want them to stay still. Lemme see your wand movement again…”</p><p>Harry refocused on Seamus and Lavender a moment later. Ron had a good idea, intention and visualization were important. But so did Hermione, understanding how the spell did what it was supposed to helped a lot. Maybe he could blend a little bit? “Before you cast it, you should have a clear idea of what effect you’re looking for. The Freezing Charm holds any animate object – including people – in place, like a stasis field almost. If you hit a ball flying across the room, the ball will freeze in midair. If the charm is undone, the ball will begin flying through the air again. I had Ron and Hermione cast it on me; it feels like a force is pushing on you firmly from all angles, holding you in place. Try to have a clear image of what you’re trying to stop, and focus on wanting that. Ready to give it a try?”</p><p>“Okay. Should we target you?”</p><p>Harry shrugged. “Probably best if we don’t hit Lockhart, so go for it.”</p><p>Lavender gave a nervous giggle. “Right. Um… <em>Immobulus?</em>” She sounded uncertain as she cast, and a weak blue light fizzled out before it could reach Harry.</p><p>“Try again,” Harry encouraged. “It won’t hurt me.”</p><p>Lavender nodded, took a deep breath, and tried again. Harry remembered to activate his Sight this time. “<em>Immobulus!”</em></p><p>Once again, Harry caught sight of a blue nimbus of magic forming around Lavender’s torso as she cast, before the spell shot out and hit him. It was a little weaker than Hermione’s and Ron’s had been the previous day, but still functional. “Good,” he praised quietly. “<em>Finite</em>.”</p><p>“Oh! <em>Finite Incantatum</em>.”</p><p>“My turn,” Seamus said quietly. “You ready, Harry?”</p><p>“Yeah, get it over with.” Seamus’s spell worked, but felt a bit unstable, like it would break pretty quickly. It did moments later. “I think your focus fragmented,” Harry commented. “Try again.”</p><p>Seamus grit his teeth and tried again, furrowing his eyebrows and swishing with a little more force. That time the pressure on Harry was exceptionally strong, and he couldn’t move at all, not even his mouth. After a moment, seeing Harry stuck in place, Seamus undid the spell, and Harry nodded at him in acknowledgement.</p><p>“Now it’s just a matter of practice, so you can cast the spell faster and actually have it be useful. You know what it feels like now to get it right, so aim for the wall and try to speed up the wand movement and incantation. Remember that the end of <em>Immobulus</em> should coincide with the end of the wand movement, so try to keep them together. Like this.” Harry whipped his wand through the movement in the way he’d practiced the day before. “<em>Immobulus!</em>” he snapped.</p><p>A bright blue jet hit the wall, and Harry turned to the others to see them nodding in appreciation. Seamus squared his shoulders and got to work. So did Lavender. With them taken care of, Harry glanced back over to see how Ron and Hermione were doing. Ron had Parvati and Dean casting at each other – not a bad idea, Harry thought, and wished he’d thought of it. Neville looked frustrated, and Hermione had the expression where she wasn’t sure how else to word something, so Harry made a split-second decision. “Seamus, Lavender, keep it up. I’m going to help Neville real quick.”</p><p>“Sure thing, Harry,” Lavender said cheerfully. “<em>Immobulus!</em>”</p><p>Harry strode over to Hermione and Neville. “Hey guys. Need another perspective?”</p><p>“Please,” Hermione agreed fervently.</p><p>“It’s not that I don’t understand her,” Neville told Harry, his tone almost pleading with Harry to believe him. “It’s that I just don’t see how to put it into practice.”</p><p>“Well, let’s walk through it. Let’s see your wand movement.” Neville carefully went through it. “Yeah, looks good. And your pronunciation?”</p><p>“<em>Immobulus</em>.”</p><p>“Sounds right to me. Hermione?”</p><p>“He’s got the inflections in the right spots,” Hermione agreed.</p><p>Harry nodded, turning back to Neville. “And what are you visualizing when you cast?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“What are you visualizing?” Harry repeated. “Visualization and intent are super important when doing magic, right? What do you want to happen, how do you see it happening?”</p><p>Neville grimaced. “I want whatever I’m aiming at to just, stop, you know? I get that the spell is supposed to hold someone still by putting pressure all over them, like holding them in a giant’s fist, but that’s just… wouldn’t that hurt? And what if there’s too much pressure?”</p><p>Ah. “I think you need a different visualization,” Harry told him. “Instead of a giant’s fist, what about Devil’s Snare? That holds someone tightly, and it doesn’t hurt at all unless you struggle too hard and it constricts to stop you.”</p><p>Neville’s face brightened. “That’s brilliant! Okay, I’ll try that.” He closed his eyes, faced the wall, and carefully moved his wand through the correct motion. Harry activated his Sight again, just for practice, as Neville cast, “<em>Immobulus!</em>”</p><p>The spell came out correctly, but Harry noted that the blue magical cloud that manifested around Neville was a lot larger than it had been for anyone else. And yet his spell didn’t seem as strong, coming out of the wand. <em>That’s weird, </em>Harry thought.</p><p>“I did it!” Neville cheered. “Hermione, Harry, thank you!”</p><p>Hermione smiled at Neville. “I’m happy for you, Neville.” She turned to Harry. “I never would have thought of a different visualization technique would work better for some people. I’ll try to remember that.”</p><p>Harry nodded at her, smiling back, but his mind was still preoccupied with Neville. Something had to have gone wrong between Neville’s casting of the magic and the way it exited the wand. The spell came out correctly, just… weaker than it should have been. Maybe something was wrong with the bond between them? “Hey Neville?”</p><p>“Yeah, Harry?”</p><p>“Can I see your wand for a minute? I promise, I’ll give it right back, I just want to check something.”</p><p>Neville seemed a little hesitant. “Okay, Harry. But be careful with it. It was my father’s.”</p><p><em>Was </em>his father’s. Harry got the message. “Got it. I promise I’ll be very careful.” Harry gently took Neville’s wand into his hand, took a deep breath, and focused his Sight on the wand, trying to see its bond. It only took a few seconds for Harry to feel that the bond, while strained, was still solid… but pointing away from Neville.</p><p>He focused a little harder, trying to glean any details at all. He got a flash of a man’s face and the smell of extreme cleanliness that Harry knew from someplace recent. The wand then actively sent Harry an impression of tentative disapproval about Neville, like the wand <em>would</em> be willing to work with him, but there was something missing…</p><p>He handed Neville the wand back, seeing the look of relief on Neville’s face. “Hermione, I need to talk with Neville alone for a minute. It’s… likely to be delicate. Do you mind?”</p><p>Hermione seemed torn between curiosity and good manners, but acquiesced after a moment. “Sure, Harry. I’ll just check on Seamus and Lavender.”</p><p>Harry led Neville to the back of the classroom, where no one was listening in. “Harry, what’s wrong?” Neville asked. “Is there something wrong with my wand?”</p><p>“Er, sort of? Yes and no, really.” Harry shook his head. “Sorry, I know that’s extremely unhelpful. Neville, I picked up a bit of wand lore over the summer, and a little bit of Divination. You know how every wizard and their wand are supposed to be bonding over time?”</p><p>“Yeah. It’s why my Gran and I wanted me to use my dad’s wand. To have a connection with him.”</p><p>Harry winced. “Well, that’s just it. I’ve been using the Sight on a lot of people as they’re using magic lately, and the amount of magic you’re putting into your spells should be making them a lot stronger than they are. So, I checked your wand. I thought maybe it was damaged somehow, or maybe there was something wrong with the bond.”</p><p>“Is there?” Neville looked rather worried.  </p><p>Harry shook his head. “The wand’s bond is fine, but… I think it’s still bonded to your father, and it doesn’t want you using it without his permission, I think.”</p><p>Neville visibly crumpled. “But I can’t <em>get </em>his permission,” he whispered, half to the wand and half to Harry.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Harry said, more out of not knowing what else he <em>could</em> say, but Neville nodded anyway.</p><p>“Thank you for letting me know,” Neville told him quietly. “My dad… he’s alive. Just in St. Mungo’s, in the Janus Thickney Ward. He and my mum were driven insane by Bellatrix Lestrange, one of You-Know-Who’s followers. It’s incurable, according to the Healers, but… I can’t help but feel that there’s a cure somewhere. Some potion that hasn’t been invented yet. I’ve been working so hard on Herbology because of how it ties into Potions, so I can provide whatever’s needed for anyone who takes an interest in my parents. Please don’t tell anyone.”</p><p>“I won’t,” Harry promised. “But I don’t understand why you told me.”</p><p>Neville took a deep breath. “You can use a bit of Divination. Could you tell my wand why I can’t get permission? See if it’ll work with me until I can? As soon as my father’s lucid again, I swear I’ll give the wand right back – it is his, after all – but I just…” He couldn’t finish.</p><p>Harry felt his heart break a little at Neville’s circumstances. “I’ll try. I’ll need the wand again.”</p><p>Neville handed it over quietly.</p><p>Harry activated his Sight again and focused on the wand, trying to project his thoughts at it. <em>Did you hear him?</em></p><p>A vague affirmative.</p><p>
  <em>Will you work with him? At least until your owner’s in a state where he can be asked properly? He is acting on your owner’s behalf, after all. </em>
</p><p>The wand gave off a feeling of reluctant acceptance, but followed up with an additional demand. It was a bit confusing – something like overwhelming? Winning, maybe? With a righteous anger thrown in for good measure.  </p><p>It took Harry a moment to make sense of it, and it was only possible because Neville had provided context earlier. <em>You want… Neville to… win… against Bellatrix Lestrange? For defeating your owner? </em></p><p>A very strong affirmative feeling came from the wand, but also a sensation not unlike being extremely aware of a clock ticking, along with a kind of watchful patience.</p><p>Harry had to guess what that meant. The wand would be patient, but only for a while? <em>You want him to win against her eventually? When he’s older and more capable of combat? </em></p><p>The wand agreed with that statement.</p><p>Harry relaxed his Sight and focused on Neville, giving the wand back to him. “It says it’ll work with you, if you promise to learn combat magic, and eventually win against Bellatrix Lestrange. It won’t be patient forever, though.”</p><p>Neville took the wand and looked at it, his eyes suddenly hard. “I’ll do it,” he whispered, sounding like he was talking to the wand and to himself. “I’ll practice hard, and learn as much as I can, and one day I swear I will defeat Bellatrix Lestrange.” He suddenly shivered. “Whoa. Is that…?” He turned to the wall. “<em>Immobulus!</em>”  </p><p>His wand shot a bright blue jet, much stronger than before, and it splashed against the wall.</p><p>“It worked,” Neville breathed. “It was so much easier, too.”</p><p>“I’m happy for you, Neville,” Harry told him with a smile.</p><p>“Thank you. I promise I’ll do my best,” he said, looking at his wand, before turning back to Harry. “Harry, I won’t forget this. I won’t ever forget this. You’ve given me a gift I can’t possibly repay. Thank you.”</p><p>And something in the way he said that, something in the way he looked, told Harry that no, Neville truly would never forget this moment.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Days 101-102</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Harry begins working on his fanmail, joins a club, and deals with Slytherins on the Quidditch Pitch</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Saturday, September 12, 1992</strong>
</p><p>The rest of the week seemed to pass in a blur, and before Harry knew it, it was Saturday again, and Harry was walking to Lockhart’s office. He had barely finished knocking on Lockhart’s door when the door swung open, revealing Lockhart himself.</p><p>“Ah, Harry! Glad you made it. Come in, sit down!” Lockhart waved him in, and Harry gladly went and sat down as he had last week. Lockhart sat back down at his desk and smiled at Harry. “So, have you been practicing those spells? The Materials Analysis Charm can be a bit tricky to master.”</p><p>Harry nodded fervently. “I have, sir. Is today the day that we get started with the fanmail, then?”</p><p>“It is indeed. The Headmaster has finished moving everything to a highly secure storage room in the castle, but there’s no need to make our way there. The Hogwarts house-elves have been asked to organize the mail by sender, and will be delivering small bundles to my office. And no need to fear me going through your mail, Harry, it will only occur at your request.”</p><p>Harry hadn’t even had time to think about Lockhart going through his mail, but he appreciated Lockhart’s forthrightness. “Is it really okay if I work on it at your desk?”</p><p>“Absolutely!” Lockhart enthused. “No need to fear taking up my time; I’ll be handling my own fanmail at the same time, so you can learn both by observing me and by experience. It’s better that way, in my opinion. I’ve arranged with the house-elves to have a similar arrangement with my own mail, so allow me to demonstrate.”</p><p>He cleared his throat, and raised his voice slightly. “Tinksy, I’m ready for my next fan letter, if you please!” Less than a second later, an envelope appeared in front of Lockhart. “Thank you!” He met Harry’s eyes. “See? Simple as that. Tinksy is handling both of our fanmail for the duration. Go ahead and call for yours. You’re going to want to request the bundle from the next <em>sender</em>, though.”</p><p>Harry thought for a moment on how to phrase it. “Tinksy, can I please have the next sender bundle please?” Just like that, a neatly-tied stack of eight letters appeared in front of him. “Thank you!”</p><p>Lockhart nodded in approval. “Next up, is our detection spells. First, the Materials Analysis Charm.” He waved his wand over his letter, and Harry followed suit, murmuring the spell. Judging from what he could tell, it was just parchment and ink. “Then the potions check.” That turned up negative as well. “And finally, the mental enchantment check.” No results there either. “And just to be sure, I’ll do the same to yours. I don’t doubt that you’ve practiced, but until you’ve actually caught something, it’s for my peace of mind.”</p><p>That seemed perfectly reasonable, and Harry appreciated the second opinion. After Lockhart gave the okay, Harry opened up the bundle and began reading the letters. Overall, they just seemed to be well-wishes on his birthday, but the first one was a fervent thank you letter for ridding the world of Voldemort, with a request to please let the sender know if he ever needed anything.</p><p>“Professor? I… I don’t know how to respond to this,” Harry confessed. He handed the letter over, and Lockhart quickly read it.</p><p>“I don’t understand the problem,” Lockhart told him with a bit of confusion in his voice. “This looks pretty standard, I would think.”</p><p>“I just… I didn’t beat him. My parents did. And is he still expecting me to come to him, or was that just something polite for him to say? Do I ask about him and his family? I don’t know how to respond. I never dealt with mail growing up, and this is a complete stranger.”</p><p>“Aaah,” Lockhart said, apparently understanding. “One thing at a time. You’re never going to be able to convince the world that your parents were the ones responsible for You-Know-Who’s defeat, not without evidence. Arguing with them will just leave them with a sour taste in their mouth. Start the letter with an apology for missing the letters until now, then simply thank him and tell him that you’ll remember his kindness. Don’t mention the favor at all; it likely was meant in all sincerity at the time, but it’s been a decade since then, and it would be rather gauche to bring it up now. Then end the letter with wishing him and his family well.”</p><p>Lockhart’s directions filled Harry with relief – that seemed both polite and short… exactly what he needed. Harry finished that note rather quickly, and following Lockhart’s lead, put it in an envelope and set it to the side. It vanished a few moments later, presumably taken by Tinksy to be delivered. “What do I do with the letters once I’m done with them?”</p><p>Lockhart rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I tend to Vanish them afterwards, unless they’re worth keeping. Vanishing them is a bit beyond your current skill level – it’s not taught until your fifth year, in general. But it does seem rude to simply toss them in the fireplace, doesn’t it? And you <em>do </em>know a bit of Human Transfiguration, so maybe it’s not beyond you entirely…”</p><p>Harry leaned in eagerly. “I mean, would it hurt to try?”</p><p>Lockhart laughed. “I guess not! Vanishing paper is a lot easier than Vanishing an animal, so you’ve got a good shot at it. Tell you what, set the letters off to the side over there, and when we’re done answering your fan mail for the day, I’ll spend a bit of time going over the basics of Vanishing.”</p><p>“Yes, sir!”</p><p>The rest of the bundles that Harry worked with that day followed much the same pattern as the first, although Harry did detect that one of the letters contained a handful of Sickles. After Lockhart verified his findings, Harry found that the letter was from a nice-sounding lady who simply wanted him to have a bit of money to spend on his birthday. Harry made sure to thank her very kindly for her thoughtfulness, and promised that he’d use it well.</p><p>They ended for the day at 1:00, and Harry relaxed, stretching out his wrist a bit. He’d written a lot in the last couple of hours.</p><p>Lockhart put down his own quill as well. “1:00 already! My, how the time flies. So, Harry, you ready for a crash course in Vanishing spells?”</p><p>“Absolutely!”</p><p>“Well, a bit of theory first. The Vanishing spell is one of those spells where it relies on the caster to comprehend the target. Suppose you want to Vanish a snail – one of the simplest living creatures in the world, you know. You’ll need to understand the parts of a snail, what makes them tick, and so on. And then you have to deal with the fact that living things will naturally resist being Vanished. Non-living things are much easier, especially if you pair it with the Materials Analysis Charm I taught you.”</p><p>Harry nodded in understanding. “So, is Vanishing the opposite of conjuring?”</p><p>“Yes and no,” Lockhart told him. “Conjuring is, essentially, transfiguring the air into what you want. Vanishing is a means of turning something from being, into non-being. You’re not transfiguring something into the air around you, no, you’re actually permanently removing something from existence.”</p><p>Harry blinked. “That sounds… well, a bit terrifying, sir. I’m glad it’s not easy to do on living things.”</p><p>“Me too!” Lockhart agreed wholeheartedly. “Imagine if You-Know-Who had figured out how to Vanish people instead of specializing in the Unforgivable Curses!” He shuddered. “In any case, the trick to Vanishing is understanding what non-being really is. When you are turning something into non-being, it’s actually becoming a part of everything in reality. Like, the energy of that item is taken, and spread through everything in the universe.”</p><p>Harry furrowed his eyebrows. “I don’t think I understand, sir.”</p><p>“It’s a difficult concept,” Lockhart commiserated. “Let’s talk philosophy for a minute. Before you were born, before you were conceived by your parents, what were you?”</p><p>“I, er, I didn’t exist, I suppose.”</p><p>“You didn’t exist. You were a non-being,” Lockhart told him with a nod. “But at the same time, the things that would eventually become you did exist. The food your parents ate, the air they breathed, the water they drank, the magic they took in, the pieces of the environment that would eventually become you were spread out.”</p><p>“Oh.” And like that, Harry got it. “So Vanishing is just reversing the process?”</p><p>“All the way to the beginning, skipping all the steps in between,” Lockhart confirmed. “In the end, everything started as simple energy. Your food, your water, your air, everything! It all starts as energy. When you are Vanishing something, you are turning that item back into energy and giving it back to the universe to use as it will. So, in a way, non-being is essentially, well, being part of everything.”</p><p>Harry leaned back into his chair, completely stunned by the idea. “That’s… whoa.”</p><p>Lockhart chuckled. “A heavy idea, I know. But it is the core concept of Vanishing, at least as Professor McGonagall taught me when I was in Hogwarts. But you’ve just reached the end of my understanding of Vanishing. If you need more help with the theory, I would suggest asking Professor McGonagall. She is the Transfiguration Mistress, after all. But in any case, are you ready to give the spell a go?”</p><p>That got Harry’s attention again. “Yes, please! How do I cast it?”</p><p>“The incantation is <em>Evanesco. </em>No particular wand movement. Merely tap the parchment with your wand. Like so. <em>Evanesco</em>.” Lockhart lightly tapped his letter, and it simply vanished. “Remember, this spell relies on your comprehension of the target. Use the Materials Analysis Charm if you need, but I expect that you’ve probably got that down by now, having needed to analyze so many letters.”</p><p>Harry mimicked his teacher. “<em>Evanesco!</em>” The letter pointedly did not vanish.</p><p>“Focus, Harry,” Lockhart chided gently but intently. “Focus on what you know about the letter, and remember that you’re sending it into non-being.”</p><p>Harry frowned, then did as Lockhart bid. He focused on what the letter was made of – parchment, ink, how old the letter was, what was written on the letter. Everything he knew about the letter. Trying to keep all that in his head, he tried again. “<em>Evanesco!</em>” This time, about an eighth of the letter spontaneously vanished.</p><p>Lockhart clapped his hands, slowly but powerfully. “Astounding. Absolutely astounding. You truly do have a talent, Harry. Such progress, on your second try! It took me days to reach that far, and I was much older than you, with more magic under my belt!”</p><p>Harry, embarrassed but pleased nonetheless, smiled at Lockhart. “I only managed because I had a great teacher. Thank you, Professor.”</p><p>Now it was Lockhart’s turn for his cheeks to colour. “I, well, that is to say…” He took a deep breath. “That’s very kind of you, Harry. I’m still very inexperienced, and still learning how to teach. I count myself quite lucky that you’re such an apt student.” He shook himself off. “Well now, look at the time! If you hurry I’m sure you can catch the tail end of lunch. We’ll practice a bit more with Vanishing next time, alright?”</p><p>“Sounds great, sir.” Harry rose from his chair, stretching. “Next Saturday?”</p><p>“I look forward to it,” Lockhart promised with a smile.</p><p>---</p><p>As Harry made his way to the Great Hall for food, he ran into Susan. “Susan! Hi!”</p><p>“Hello, Harry. I’ve been looking for you!” Susan greeted cheerfully. “Hermione told me about your Saturday appointments with Professor Lockhart, and I thought this would be a great time for us to hang out afterwards. Considering the rest of the week makes it difficult with classes, that is.”</p><p>Harry grinned. “That’s perfect! What do you have in mind?”</p><p>“Well, how about a quick trip to the kitchens since you obviously haven’t eaten, and see where we go from there?”</p><p>Harry looked at her quizzically. “You know where the kitchens are?”</p><p>“Sure! Every Hufflepuff does. Come on!”</p><p>Harry walked with Susan, chatting amiably, down through the entrance hall, down some stairs Harry had never gone down before, all the way to a large portrait of a bowl of fruit. Presumably, this was the entrance to the kitchen. “So, what’s the password?”</p><p>“No password. Watch this.” Susan reached up and lightly tickled the pear. To Harry’s astonishment, it wiggled and giggled a little, before the painting opened up, revealing the kitchens.</p><p>Susan walked in, Harry right behind as he looked around. There were dozens, perhaps a hundred house-elves. A split second after he had registered that fact, a house-elf popped into existence right in front of him. “Hello, students! How can Blonky by helping?”</p><p>Susan took the lead again. “Harry and I accidentally missed lunch, and we were hoping for a quick snack to tide us over until dinner.”</p><p>“Of course! Sit, sit!” Blonky led them over to a small table, presumably there for exactly this sort of reason. A snap of Blonky’s fingers later, two plates were set in front of Harry and Susan, and an assortment of food – presumably the lunch from earlier – was set in front of them. Goblets appeared in front of them, already filled with pumpkin juice, with a pitcher of water nearby. “Students should eat their fill,” Blonky told them in a somewhat-stern tone of voice.</p><p>“Thanks, we will!” Harry assured the elf, who appeared satisfied and disappeared with another snap of his fingers.</p><p>Susan and Harry quickly filled up their plates, and they resumed their conversation from earlier. Eventually, they somehow got to the topic of clubs for ways that the Hogwarts Houses interacted. “I mean, there’s the Gobstones Club, and the Quidditch teams of course, but there are others. They just don’t advertise,” Susan bemoaned.</p><p>Harry nodded along in a commiserating way. “I know that Ron would love to join a Chess Club, if one exists.”</p><p>“What about you? What kind of club would you join?” Susan asked curiously.</p><p>Harry thought about it for a few seconds. “Something physical, I’d imagine. Some kind of Racing Club, maybe? I may not look it, but I’m really fast on my feet. Or maybe a Dueling Club, if I could somehow fit it in my schedule. Something to get my blood going, you know?”</p><p>Susan rolled her eyes at Harry. “You’re such a boy,” she said with a fond exasperation. “Or at least, that’s what I’d say if I wasn’t completely with you about a Dueling Club. Auntie does want me able to defend myself, and I’d like to show her that I can. There’s not one at Hogwarts, though – I already asked the upper years.”</p><p>“One of my upper years told me that Lockhart’s going to be teaching the fourth years how to duel,” Harry commented. “But if I pick up any tips, I’ll share them with you.”</p><p>Susan grinned. “I’ll do the same. Maybe if we get enough information, we can start an Underage Dueling Club!”</p><p>They both laughed at that. “Yeah, maybe!” Harry agreed merrily.</p><p>After another few seconds of chortling, Susan recovered. “Well, you know how Professor Sprout said that we needed to work on our bodies if we want to keep up in Herbology? How would you feel about a Workout Club?”</p><p>Harry looked at her with furrowed brows. “I mean, I guess it’d depend on what you had in mind.”</p><p>Susan shrugged. “All clubs have to be sponsored by a teacher, so it’d be up to them I guess. I was just thinking that I don’t want to disappoint Professor Sprout, since she’s my Head of House and all, and getting in better shape is good for all kinds of reasons.”</p><p>“Like what?” Harry asked curiously.</p><p>“Wizards and witches who take the time to stay in shape tend to live longer and are able to cast more powerful magic,” Susan said simply. “And, well…” She blushed. “I might be a bit too fond of sweet desserts, and I hear that an active witch can eat whatever she likes and not gain weight.”</p><p>Harry grinned at her. “I get it. I’m rather fond of treacle tart myself.” He paused for a moment, imagining what it’d be like to be physically stronger than Dudley. It hit him almost like a physical impact, that was how powerful his sudden desire was. He wanted Dudley to be envious of <em>him</em>, instead of the other way, how it’d been all those years. “Hey Susan? About that Workout Club? I want in.”</p><p>Susan smiled at him, and Harry was struck by the thought that she looked rather pretty when she did that. “I’m glad. With you, me, Hannah and Justin, that’s the minimum of four people we needed to start a club. I’ll talk to Professor Sprout this week about it.”</p><p>“I bet Neville would join, if we offered,” Harry pointed out. “He loves Herbology, and I’m sure he’d like to make sure he keeps doing well.”</p><p>“Feel free to invite him then,” Susan told him. “And any more of your friends, too.”</p><p>Harry promised to do just that, and then the conversation moved on. Almost an hour later, they parted ways, with delightfully full bellies and the quiet warmth of having thoroughly enjoyed each other’s company.</p><p>----</p><p>
  <strong>Sunday, September 13, 1992</strong>
</p><p>Harry was distinctly unhappy, as he trudged towards the Quidditch pitch. Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, had woken him up at the crack of dawn for Quidditch practice – the first practice of the season. Harry didn’t mind practice, but he would have appreciated some warning the night before so he could have gone to bed early for it.</p><p>“Hey, Harry? Is it true that you’re the youngest Seeker in a century?” Colin Creevey had overheard Harry coming down the stairs – Harry was honestly surprised Colin was awake at the ungodly hour – and was excitedly following him down to the pitch, asking Harry all sorts of questions. Harry was tolerating it, because Colin meant well and hadn’t overstepped yet, and Harry absolutely didn’t want to emulate the Dursleys with their “no questions” policy.</p><p>“Yeah,” Harry confirmed. “I’m pretty good at it.”</p><p>“That’s pretty cool! When will I learn how to fly a broom?”</p><p>“Probably next month. We learned in October of my first year too.”</p><p>“Can you explain how Quidditch works? I don’t really get it.”</p><p>Harry would never admit it, but Colin’s persistent questioning was doing wonders to shake his brain out of its grogginess. “Sure. There are four balls. There’s a biggish red one, called a Quaffle. If a Chaser gets one through an enemy team’s hoops, it’s worth 10 points. There are three Chasers on each team, and a Keeper to protect the hoops.”</p><p>“Sounds like football on brooms, almost.”</p><p>Harry chuckled. “A bit, yeah. Next, there are two that are enchanted to attack players. They’re called Bludgers. Each team has two players called Beaters who get to carry bats to bash the Bludgers away from their teammates and towards the enemy team.”</p><p>“Sounds dangerous, Harry! Are the Beaters on your team good? What happens if they don’t manage to get to a Bludger in time?”</p><p>“They’re the best,” Harry told him. “The Weasley twins are really good at it. But everyone has to practice how to dodge Bludgers too, because Beaters can’t be everywhere and Bludgers can be a bit unpredictable.”</p><p>Colin nodded excitedly. “What about the last ball?”</p><p>“It’s this tiny little golden ball with wings, called the Snitch. It’s fast, and sneaky, and hard to spot. If a Seeker catches it, it’s worth 150 points, and ends the game.”</p><p>“Why’s it worth so much more than scoring goals with the Quaffle?”</p><p>“Because it’s so hard to see, and hard to catch. The game literally won’t end in professional matches until it’s been caught, so they can go for days at a time. The organizers wanted to give each team an incentive to be the one to catch the Snitch, and make sure that the match ends within a reasonable amount of time, for everyone’s health.”</p><p>“That makes sense! How long are games typically here at Hogwarts?”</p><p>“An hour, give or take a bit, from what Oliver tells me. It really depends on the skill of the Seekers, and maybe a bit of luck.”</p><p>“Do you mind if I take some photos of you guys practicing? I want to send some more to my dad.”</p><p>“I don’t mind, but the ultimate decision belongs to my team captain, Oliver. I’ll ask him for you.”</p><p>“Cool! Thanks, Harry. Oh, do you think you’ll be doing these early-morning practices often?”</p><p>Harry let out a sigh, mourning the prospect of being able to sleep in. “Probably. Oliver’s a bit Quidditch-crazy.” Just then, they arrived at the changing rooms, and Harry turned to face Colin. “Right. I gotta get changed. I’ll ask Oliver about you taking photos. Go find a spot in the stands, and I’ll fly over once I have an answer.”</p><p>Colin beamed. “Thanks, Harry! See you out there!” He rushed off, clutching his camera.</p><p>Harry shook his head wryly, then walked into the changing room. The rest of the team was already there, and predictably, only Oliver looked truly awake. Fred and George Weasley were sitting against a wall, bleary-eyed and hunched, looking sorely like they just wanted to go back to bed. Alicia was sitting next to them, and seemed to be nodding off. Katie and Angelina were taking turns yawning.</p><p>“Harry!” Oliver greeted brisky. “Glad you made it. What kept you?”</p><p>“A very hyper first year.”</p><p>“Well, no matter, you’re here now. I wanted to a quick talk with the whole team before we get on the field, because I spent the whole summer devising a new training program.”</p><p>Oliver pulled up a large diagram of the Quidditch field, on which were drawn many lines, arrows, and crosses in different-coloured inks. As Oliver pulled out his wand and tapped it, making the arrows wiggle over the diagram like caterpillars, Harry bit his lip in indecision. The rest of the team was clearly not in any state to hear Oliver’s plan, and he really didn’t want to deal with hearing this more than once. Seeing Fred’s head start to nod off made Harry’s decision easier – he certainly wasn’t going to sit through this alone.</p><p>“Oliver?”</p><p>The team captain paused. “Question, Harry?”</p><p>“I think you and I are the only ones actually awake right now. Maybe a few laps or something would help the others wake up?”</p><p>Oliver paused and actually took stock of the others’ states. “Yeah, I think you’re right, Harry. Alright you lot, up you get. Let’s get flying.”</p><p>It took a minute to get everyone moving again, but Harry could see how the brisk morning air blew away the siren call of sleep from his teammates’ faces as soon as they got in the air. They raced a couple of times around the pitch, and afterwards everyone was wide awake. Oliver motioned and called for them all to land, and they did. He got out the diagram again, and this time people were properly paying attention.</p><p>Oliver’s training plan was… well, intense. He wanted Harry to start learning how to coordinate with the Chasers to break up the opposing team’s formations, which looked pretty complex, in Harry’s opinion, but it meant that Harry would be doing more than just scanning the pitch for the Snitch for the majority of the game. Oliver had other ideas, too, like for the Weasley twins to start batting Bludgers at each other in order to send them at the enemy from unexpected angles.</p><p>It took a solid twenty minutes to get through Oliver’s diagram, but by the end of it, everyone was simultaneously intimidated and ready to get started. When Oliver pulled out a <em>second </em>diagram, Fred and George simultaneously held a hand up. “Nope,” Fred told him bluntly.</p><p>“Let us get through this one first,” George added on.</p><p>“We’ll never remember otherwise.”</p><p>Oliver hesitated, but when everyone else nodded in fervent agreement, he reluctantly conceded the point. “Right then. Warm up for five minutes, and then get ready for a quick scrimmage. We’re going to be having Harry practice disrupting Chaser formations while you three try to score on me. Fred, George, you’re on Chaser duty, trying to steal the Quaffle from the girls.”</p><p>As everyone took off, Harry quickly pulled Oliver aside. “Hey, Oliver, there’s a first-year Gryffindor who followed me to practice. He’s in the stands now. He’s a Muggleborn, and he’d like to take a few pictures for his dad. That alright? I told him I’d ask you.”</p><p>“As long as he doesn’t share them with the Slytherins, it’s fine,” Oliver said with a shrug.</p><p>Harry took a moment to fly over to Colin and let him know, then began putting his Nimbus 2000 through its paces. It was so good to fly again.</p><p>That thought was soon banished from his mind, as <em>Harry</em> was put through his paces, trying to interrupt Katie, Angelina and Alicia from their well-practiced formations as they dodged and weaved around Fred and George to score on Oliver. It was unexpectedly difficult, needing to go fast enough and accurately enough that at least one of them needed to dodge in a different direction. After each attempt, the team stopped for a minute to discuss it. Half an hour later, Harry had yet to successfully manage to break their formation, but the Chasers assured him that he was making it more difficult.</p><p>Harry was getting ready to try again when Oliver waved them all down. Before he could ask anything though, Oliver sent a murderous glare down the field. “The Slytherin team is here.”</p><p>Indeed, several people in green robes were walking down the field, carrying broomsticks. Marcus Flint, captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, led them.</p><p>Oliver dismounted, and Harry followed suit. “Flint!” Oliver called as the Slytherins drew close enough for conversation. “This is our practice time! I booked it specially! What’re you doing here?!”</p><p>Flint was larger than Oliver by a fair amount, and he used every inch of it as he came closer. With a vague look of amiability, Flint gestured at the field. “Plenty of room for all of us, Wood.”</p><p>The six Slytherins that Harry could see were pretty tall – mostly sixth and seventh years, he reckoned. But he didn’t much like the way they looked at Angelina, Alicia and Katie. Even so, Harry kept his mouth shut. If it could be resolved peacefully, that would be better.</p><p>“I booked the field,” Oliver insisted. “You wouldn’t want us on the field when you book it, so have some courtesy.”</p><p>“Oh, I would, but the thing is, I’ve got this specially signed note from Professor Snape.” Flint pulled out a note from his pocket and read it aloud. “‘I, Professor Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Seeker.’”</p><p>“New Seeker?” Wood asked, then looked at the team. “Where?”</p><p>From behind the rest of the Slytherins, Draco Malfoy came out, with a giant smirk painted across his pale face. “Hello,” he drawled. “I’m the new Seeker, Draco Malfoy.”</p><p>Oliver frowned, looking at Malfoy with an unreadable expression. “Congratulations, Malfoy,” he said neutrally. “Mind if I ask a question?”</p><p>“By all means,” Malfoy said smoothly.</p><p>“Well, if you’ve joined the team as a second year, before you could have possibly had a chance to try out no less, then you must have some impressive skills,” Oliver said slowly. “And I’m positive you know how the game works, being raised in the wizarding world. But if that’s the case, why did Professor Snape feel the need to override the established field reservations? The first game is nearly two months away. Surely your skills aren’t that terrible if you made it to the team.”</p><p>Malfoy’s smirk cracked a bit, and Harry suppressed a desire to smirk back at him. He would not be like Malfoy. Even if it was extremely satisfying to see Malfoy get a little comeuppance. Oh, but it was tempting!</p><p>Flint, however, took the lead. “I expect he simply didn’t know you’d reserved this morning,” Flint said matter-of-factly. “After all, the first opportunity to set bookings was last night.”</p><p>Oliver smiled thinly. “I see. Well, the field is yours, for now then.”</p><p>“What?!” Fred and George yelled, outraged. Harry felt the same way. What on earth was Oliver playing at?</p><p>“No, no, it’s fine,” Oliver reassured them, a malicious smile flashing across his face. “Walk with me.”</p><p>As soon as they were out of earshot from the Slytherin team, Oliver hissed at the team. “Harry. Go get Professor McGonagall. Katie, you get Professor Snape. They’ll probably be at breakfast now, so check the Great Hall before you check their offices. One way or another, those snakes are cheating. There’s only four options. Snape didn’t check the bookings beforehand so he shouldn’t have done it, Snape <em>did </em>check the bookings beforehand so this was sabotage, Snape wrote the note to let them practice before today and they’re lying about when it applies, or they forged the note. We need Snape and the Deputy Headmistress to sort this out if we don’t want to get in trouble ourselves. The rest of us will stay here and make sure they don’t leave beforehand.”</p><p>“On it,” Harry and Katie said together, and they dashed inside, running towards the Great Hall.</p><p>As luck would have it, both McGonagall and Snape were there, and the Hall quickly fell silent as Harry and Katie strode up to the staff table, still wearing their Quidditch uniforms. “Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape,” Katie started, catching their attention. “There seems to have been a misunderstanding about booking the Quidditch field today, and we were hoping for help in resolving the matter.”</p><p>Harry nodded in support. “The Slytherin team claims to have been given special permission by Professor Snape to practice today, even though the Gryffindor team captain booked this morning. They have a note to prove it.”</p><p>“I see.” McGonagall turned to Snape. “And did you give them any such permission for today?”</p><p>“Not for today,” Snape replied calmly. “I gave them such a note a few days ago, when they wanted special permission to run tryouts early and give a new Seeker some basic training. Considering the sorry state of our last Seeker, I felt that wasn’t unreasonable.”</p><p>McGonagall nodded. “I see. Using this note to try to prevent the Gryffindor team from being able to practice is rather dishonest of them, however. I believe an appropriate punishment would be having their next two field bookings cancelled, don’t you agree?”</p><p>Professor Snape’s lips curled. “Let the punishment fit the crime, I suppose. I will ensure they understand exactly what I think of their behavior.”</p><p>McGonagall stood. “Very well then. Let’s be off.” Snape stood as well, and they began striding towards the Quidditch field, Harry and Katie following a few steps behind.</p><p>They soon arrived, and Harry took a guilty pleasure in watching Draco’s face turn paler than it normally was. McGonagall detailed the punishment, while Snape glared down at this Slytherins. As soon as McGonagall finished expressing her disapproval and left, Snape stepped up for his turn in dressing down his Slytherins.</p><p>“I expect better from all of you,” Snape said sternly, pacing slowly in front of the Slytherin Quidditch team. “Not a single ounce of cunning between you all. Because no matter which imbecile concocted this idea, you all followed through. Slytherins win through superior application of intelligence, not through <em>cheating</em>. Do you think I became a Potions Master by cheating? By denying my rivals the opportunity to try? By bribing the testers? You have disrespected the foundation of what it means to be Slytherins.”</p><p>He stopped, twisting to face the Slytherins, his robes billowing out impressively. “Cunning! Ambition!” Snape hissed sharply, making the students flinch. “And the willingness to do what it takes to achieve your goals, whatever they may be! That is what it means to be Slytherin! Are your goals so pedestrian as a mediocre victory over a mediocre team? If you desire to win, then <em>earn it</em>, for it will be so much more impressive when you do.”</p><p>Snape sneered at them. “Do <em>not </em>involve me in such foolishness <em>ever again</em>. Now get inside, and pray that I do not hold this incident against you during your next class.” With that, he turned on his heel and stalked back to the school. The Slytherin students silently followed a few meters behind.  </p><p>After they were gone, Fred raised his hand. “Um, is it weird that I was kind of inspired by that?”</p><p>“Only if it’s weird that I was too, twin of mine,” George responded in the same tone.</p><p>Harry nodded. “I guess there’s a reason he’s Head of Slytherin,” he observed aloud. He received a round of nods in response.</p><p>“Well then!” Oliver said suddenly. “We have our pitch back. Time to get back to practice!”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Days 115-116</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Harry is introduced to the Workout Club, and meets with McGonagall to discuss his parents.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Day 115 – Saturday, September 26, 1992</strong>
</p><p>The last couple of weeks had passed uneventfully, setting up a comfortable routine for Harry. Surprisingly, Oliver hadn’t gone too crazy with scheduling Quidditch practice, meaning that Harry had a reasonable amount of free time most evenings. Even more surprisingly, Malfoy hadn’t attempted any kind of revenge on Harry after his humiliation at the Quidditch pitch. Harry was still wary, though.  </p><p>Susan had been true to her word, and had worked with Professor Sprout to set up the Workout Club. Sprout had agreed to be their sponsor more than a week ago, but had needed a bit of time to set up an appropriate club space. Their first meeting was supposed to be today at 3:00 p.m., and Harry was looking forward to it. He had invited his friends, but only Neville had agreed to come along.</p><p>“I can get physically fit over summers, when I can’t do magic legally anyway,” Hermione had justified. “But I won’t have access to the Hogwarts library forever. I want to take advantage of what I have.”</p><p>Ron had looked vaguely interested, but had declined as well. “I was thinking about spending some time with my brothers and sister,” he admitted. “I don’t think Ginny has many friends right now, and I want to help a bit. Might join you later, though.”</p><p>So, after another session with Lockhart, Harry and Neville made their way down to the greenhouses, where Professor Sprout was waiting to guide everyone to the club space. Susan, Hannah and Justin were already there waiting for them.</p><p>“Hello, boys!” Sprout greeted cheerfully as Harry and Neville arrived. “Follow me, everyone!”</p><p>Sprout led them past the various greenhouses, over to the Black Lake. “Er, what are we doing here, Professor?” Susan asked, sounding a bit lost.</p><p>“Here is where we’re going to meet for the Workout Club, of course!” Sprout said brightly. “At least while the weather remains good. Should it start raining or snowing, we’ll move indoors, of course, but it’s such a shame to waste a sunny afternoon like this.”</p><p>Harry supposed that made sense. “So, what do we do now? Just start doing pushups or something?”</p><p>Sprout laughed merrily. “Of course not! We’re wizards and witches! Do you really think that no one’s bothered to create spells to help people stay in shape? There’s a spell that forces someone’s legs to dance, and I bet some of you already know it - <em>Tarantallegra</em>. Naturally, there are spells to make someone perform most kinds of basic actions. Anything from clapping your hands to singing a song, there are all kinds of charms and curses to make someone’s body do something.”</p><p>Harry traded glances with the rest of the students, feeling distinctly unsettled.</p><p>Apparently seeing this, Sprout hurried to reassure them. “Not to worry, your magic would fight off most charms or curses like that in a matter of minutes. Less, if your need was great. And most wizards and witches become capable of a wandless, wordless, self-targeted <em>Finite Incantatum </em>before they graduate. Especially after you all learn to duel.”</p><p>That did make Harry feel a little better, if he was honest. But he made a mental note to add practicing that to his routine.</p><p>“In any case, in order to help you all get into shape, this spell will be exceedingly useful. It’s called the Repeat Jinx, or sometimes the Do-That-Again Jinx. It’s a spell that makes you repeat physical actions. It’s great for establishing muscle memory, and if you get really good at it…” Sprout paused, purposely drawing it out to keep everyone’s attention. “If you get <em>really </em>good at the Repeat Jinx, then you can set it up to work out while you sleep.”</p><p>“Wait, how does that work?” Justin asked incredulously.</p><p>“When you’re sleeping, your body and mind are largely, but not entirely, disconnected from each other,” Sprout explained. “For example, if you’re running in your dream, you’re not typically going to be running in real life. Your legs might twitch, you might roll over, but that’s about the end of it, right?”</p><p>At the students’ general assent, she continued. “But things happening to your body might impact your dream. Suppose you’re dreaming of flying through space or some such. If someone takes your blanket off of you, and you start getting a bit chilly, then you might start visiting an icy planet in your dream. Your body and mind are still connected, it’s just less so while you sleep. Are you with me so far?”</p><p>Harry thought that made sense, and nodded as much, as did the others.</p><p>“With the Repeat Jinx, you can take advantage of that,” Sprout said simply. “You’ll sleep, and dream, while your magic makes your body work out for you. You won’t be <em>as </em>rested as you would be had you let your body stay in bed and rest, and you’ll likely wake up a bit sore and rather hungry… and you’ll likely have some very odd dreams at times… but imagine being able to stay in shape without having to think about it, or trudge through the tedious bits of physical workouts? You wouldn’t have to wake up early for it, you could eat almost anything you want because you’ll just work it off while you sleep…” She trailed off with a knowing grin, seeing the awestruck look on the students’ faces.</p><p>“How do we get started?” Susan asked eagerly.</p><p>“Well, first we’re going to go over the Repeat Jinx, and when <em>not </em>to use it,” Professor Sprout told them all. “It’s innocuous enough, but there are times where you absolutely should not use it.”</p><p>“Like when?” came Hannah’s hesitant question.</p><p>“Like submerging yourself in water,” Sprout told them, suddenly very stern. “Swimming is a popular way to get and stay in shape, as water provides more resistance to movement than air does. And indeed, we will be swimming in the Black Lake when the weather’s warm. But you cannot breathe underwater, not without special charms, or plants or potions. And water is chaotic. While a conscious mind can adapt to the waves and pulls of water in order to stay afloat, or to find the next breath of air, it’s incredibly dangerous to have the mind and body working out of sync in those circumstances. Never, and I do mean <em>never</em>, use the Repeat Jinx to practice swimming. You will drown. I can almost guarantee it.”</p><p>Her words killed the excitement nearly instantly. “Anything else?” Harry asked, after a moment.</p><p>“One more very important thing: the Repeat Jinx absolutely cannot make someone replicate magic. It can only replicate physical actions, not magical ones,” Sprout said aloud. “So you can’t use it to practice flying in your sleep, Mr. Potter.”  </p><p>Seeing the grins everyone else gave him, Harry blushed. “I wouldn’t have tried that,” he protested weakly. Not a single one of others looked like they believed him.</p><p>“With those warnings out of the way, let’s move on to the actual spell itself. Wands out, everyone.” Sprout paused a moment while the students drew their wands. “The Repeat Jinx, <em>Repeto</em>, has a basic circular wand motion, like so.” She demonstrated. “To use it, you must have a clear idea of what exactly you want the target to do, and how it is done. It’s also extremely hard to cast on somebody else, as the Repeat Jinx operates by connecting your magic for the duration of the action you want repeated. Since people naturally resist foreign magic, and the Repeat Jinx does not clearly define the action desired within the spell itself, it rarely lasts more than a handful of seconds if you cast on anyone but yourself. Observe. <em>Repeto!</em>”</p><p>She abruptly cast on Hannah, who took a couple of steps towards the Black Lake before stopping in place. “That was <em>weird!</em>” Hannah said with a shiver.</p><p>“As you can see, the spell barely lasted long enough to take a few steps,” Sprout continued. “You can get better results if you add your action to the spell in a succinct way that you can immediately recognize. For example… <em>Repeto run to the lake!</em>”</p><p>This time she cast on Harry, and abruptly he felt his legs and arms begin moving, felt his body begin sprinting towards the lake, felt his lungs suddenly burn with the need for oxygen. He had no control at all, and he felt a brief moment of panic at the unsettling sensation of someone else’s magic moving him. Five steps. Ten. And then the magic controlling his body was gone, and Harry nearly fell on his face as he stumbled. He walked back to the others, nodding at Hannah as he caught his breath. “You’re right, that did feel weird,” he agreed.</p><p>“As you can see, even with the enhancement, it still didn’t last more than a few seconds,” Sprout observed, with the others nodding along. “The true power is in casting on yourself. Feel free to practice the spell later; you won’t be ready for sleeping workouts for months yet, and we haven’t even begun to work.”</p><p>The students traded glances. “Then… what will we be doing now?” Justin asked.</p><p>“Well, the Repeat Jinx only works if you have a clear idea and understanding of the motions you want to repeat. So…” Sprout’s voice remained sweet, as did her face, but Harry shivered, suddenly feeling like Sprout was taking a malicious pleasure in her next words. “I’m going to teach you how to work out.”</p><p>---</p><p>
  <strong>Day 116 – Sunday, September 27, 1992</strong>
</p><p>Harry woke up still sore from Workout Club, and briefly cursed his past self for accepting Susan’s offer. Not that it would stop him from going again, of course. But he really didn’t want to move.</p><p>Ron’s snores in the corner told Harry that he was still asleep, but judging from the sound, Neville was either awake or gone. He took a chance.</p><p>“Neville?” Harry asked wearily. “Are you alive over there?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Neville called back from his bed in the same tone. “You?”</p><p>“Yeah. D’ya think that Pomfrey would heal us if we asked nicely?”</p><p>“Maybe, but that would involve moving, wouldn’t it?”</p><p>“Fair point.”</p><p>They fell into a comfortable silence for a minute. “Hey Harry?”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Do you think Ron would bring us breakfast if we asked him?”</p><p>Harry chuckled. “For doing this to ourselves? Fat chance.”</p><p>“Yeah, I thought so too. But that means we have to get up eventually.”</p><p>“I hate that you’re right.”</p><p>Neither of them moved, but a few seconds later Harry’s stomach and bladder made themselves known to him. Harry groaned. “Alright, Neville. Wish me luck.”</p><p>“Only if you do the same for me when it’s my turn.”</p><p>It took some effort, but the two of them eventually made it downstairs to the Great Hall for breakfast. It wasn’t too bad once they got moving, actually, which was a good sign, Harry hoped.</p><p>When they got there, both Sprout and McGonagall were present, eating quietly. Sprout waved at them merrily, but Harry knew now that her cheerful expression hid a demonic taskmaster. But it wouldn’t do to upset her, so Harry waved back.</p><p>Harry was about midway through his meal when he noticed McGonagall walk over to him with purpose in her steps. He looked up at her curiously.</p><p>“Mr. Potter, I have made some time this morning for that discussion we talked about earlier this month.” Her expression softened the tiniest bit. “Please meet me in my office when you’re done eating.”</p><p>Harry blinked, then remembered – McGonagall had promised to tell him about his parents. He nodded quickly. “I’ll be there, Professor,” he promised. She nodded and walked away.</p><p>“Harry?” Neville asked curiously. “Is everything okay? Are you in trouble?”</p><p>Harry shook his head. “No, everything’s fine. McGonagall’s going to tell me a bit about my parents, since no one’s told me about them at all. You’ll have to see Pomfrey without me, I’ll catch up.”</p><p>Neville nodded, and the two of them resumed eating. Harry finished quickly, and then almost ran to McGonagall’s office. He knocked on the door, and was quickly invited inside.</p><p>Her office was rather different from how Harry remembered it – the desk had been moved to one side, and a couple of comfortable-looking chairs had been either Transfigured or Conjured  in the middle of the room, with a tea table between them. McGonagall had clearly made an attempt to make her office a bit more relaxing for the purpose of this discussion, which Harry thought made sense. They weren’t speaking as teacher and student, but as friend of the parents to their orphan.</p><p>“Thanks for this, Professor,” Harry told her sincerely.</p><p>“It’s the least I could do, Harry. Your parents… well, you do deserve to know them. Please, sit down. We’ve got all morning to talk. I imagine you have many questions.”</p><p>The two sat down, and Harry could hardly contain his excitement. “Professor, what were they like?”</p><p>McGonagall let out a tiny, sincere smile. “Would you prefer I start with your mother or father?”</p><p>“Mother first, please.”</p><p>“Lily Evans… she was a bright young girl when she came to Hogwarts,” McGonagall recalled fondly. “Exceptionally good at Potions and Charms, and not bad at Transfiguration either. She was friendly with other Gryffindor girls in her year, but liked to keep to herself in general, though she did have one close friend for most of her schooling.”</p><p>Harry leaned forward eagerly. “Who?”</p><p>“Severus Snape.”</p><p>Harry’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding.”</p><p>“Not at all. From what I could gather, they were childhood friends, having grown up in the same area in the Muggle world. I’m afraid I don’t know the details, however. You might find Professor Snape a valuable source of knowledge on her early years, but they did have a rather spectacular falling out at the end of their fifth year in Hogwarts.” McGonagall shook her head. “A shame, really. Friendships between Gryffindor and Slytherin are quite rare, to be honest, and it was refreshing to see that one last. If only it hadn’t turned sour.”</p><p>“What happened?” Harry breathed.</p><p>“Only Professor Snape or one of your father’s friends would be able to tell you that, I’m afraid. I’d rather not speculate.”</p><p>Harry nodded, tucking that information away for later. “So, did mom always like dad? I mean, I always got the impression they got married straight out of Hogwarts.”</p><p>McGonagall gave an honest-to-goodness laugh. “Dear heavens, no! Lily hated James for years! The number of times I heard her call him a nasty little toerag…” She wiped her eyes with a handkerchief. “No, no, James had a crush on her from the beginning, I think from the moment they met on the train, and it was painfully obvious. Unfortunately for Lily, James was a typical boy and became jealous of Lily’s close friendship with Severus.” McGonagall’s voice grew a little sad. “Your father and Severus became very much like you and Malfoy, though there are some notable differences. You don’t tend to instigate with Malfoy, while James frequently did so with Severus. On top of that, your father had his three friends as backup, and Severus was frequently alone.”</p><p>Harry’s stomach twisted. “My father and his friends… bullied him?”</p><p>“Severely at times, from what I’m given to understand. I did my best to curb it, but…” McGonagall sighed. “I was not very successful. James and his friends were quite talented in mischief-making, and knew the hidden corridors and passageways of Hogwarts better than anyone I’ve taught since, save perhaps the Weasley twins. Lest you think it one-sided, however, Severus gave as good as he got. He and Lily were exceptional at Potions, and what your Potions Professor will not tell you is that there are a great many ways to prank someone with potions if you put your mind to it. Lily supported Severus all the way until their falling out, and it drove your father crazy. On top of that Severus was also quite skilled in Defense Against the Dark Arts, with a talent for curses, and frequently was able to fight any two of your father’s group to a standstill.”</p><p>Harry found himself unwillingly impressed. “So, if mom hated dad, then…”</p><p>“How and why did they get together?” McGonagall finished. “Your father found the motivation to change. Your father’s friends were Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew. They were the other Gryffindor boys in his year. There was an incident between Remus Lupin, Sirius Black and Severus that put Severus’s life in extreme danger. Your father saved his life. On top of that, James’s parents, your grandparents, took in Sirius Black after he fled the Black family’s ancestral home.”</p><p>“Why would Mr. Black do that?”</p><p>McGonagall pursed her lips. “It was well-known that Sirius was on extremely bad terms with his family. Blacks are traditionally Slytherin, and Sirius was in Gryffindor. And the Black family held… <em>traditional</em> views regarding Muggleborns, views that Sirius did not appear to agree with. Either Sirius left of his own accord, or he was evicted. He never stated while he was in Hogwarts, and I never asked.</p><p>“In any case, I believe that with the war with You-Know-Who beginning to escalate, Sirius’s circumstances, and Severus’s life being legitimately endangered, your father found a need to mature. His progress was sufficient that we made him Head Boy in their seventh year, and your mother was Head Girl. I believe that his newfound maturity and their working closely together was enough for Lily to give him a chance.”</p><p>Harry bit his lip. “Did he ever stop bullying Professor Snape?”</p><p>McGonagall took a sip from her teacup, thinking on the question. “I don’t believe he bullied Severus actively, in his seventh year,” she finally stated. “He was kept extremely busy, and he did not want to sabotage his new relationship with Lily. That said, little things, attacks of opportunity… James Potter had matured, yes, but by the end he and Severus Snape truly hated each other. I don’t believe either would have stopped attacking each other, given the chance, although I never caught them, and neither thought it best to get a teacher involved.”</p><p>Harry’s stomach twisted again. So Professor Snape had reason to hate his dad. It still didn’t make it okay to bully him in return, but… Harry was beginning to understand. He took a sip of tea to buy some time to get his emotions under control.</p><p>Hoping that his dad had been more than a bully, he decided to focus on James Potter for a minute. “Can you tell me more about my dad?”</p><p>McGonagall took another sip of tea. “He was… a rascal at heart. Playful, charismatic, intelligent, proud, loyal, and foolhardy. He and his friends loved to play pranks, and most of them were quite light-hearted, making people laugh. I lost count of the number of detentions I must have given them, but they always took it as a challenge to do better and not get caught. And a good number of them, they got away with, much to my exasperation. There were times I would have sworn I had them pinned, but when I turned the corner, they were nowhere to be seen.”</p><p>She must have seen something on Harry’s face at that, and she raised an eyebrow at him. “You have a thought on that?”</p><p>Harry blushed. “I, er… my dad had an invisibility cloak. Dumbledore gave it to me last Christmas.”</p><p>McGonagall stared at him for a long moment. “Of all the… an invisibility cloak? That explains much. I assume you have it, then?” At his nod, she took a breath. “I will not confiscate it. I appreciate your trust in sharing that with me. But be aware that if I should catch you making mischief with it, I will confiscate it for a time. Understood?”</p><p>“Yes, ma’am.”</p><p>McGonagall nodded. “Now then, back to James… He did not like to study for the sake of grades, but anything that captured his attention, James Potter excelled in. He did have a rather large ego, which was unfortunately backed up by his skill, but Lily was rather good at deflating it.”</p><p>Harry smiled a bit at the thought, trying to imagine his parents as he’d seen them in the Mirror of Erised the previous year. If they’d lived, maybe he could have had memories of James doing something silly, and Lily rolling her eyes at him and keeping him from getting too full of himself.</p><p>“What about mum? You said a little about her, but I want to know more. What was she like, as a person?”</p><p>McGonagall leaned back in her chair, and her voice took on a fond element. “Lily was usually very sweet and kind to others, even if she did largely keep to herself and Severus, but she did have a temper on her, and a scathing tongue when she chose to use it,” McGonagall revealed. “Everyone knew to stay on her good side, because she could hold a grudge like very few people I’ve seen since. Worse still, when someone made an enemy of her, both Severus and James would put aside their rivalry and make the person absolutely miserable. More than once I had to step in before the three drove someone to a complete breakdown.”</p><p>“Whoa,” Harry whispered.</p><p>“Indeed,” McGonagall agreed. “Beyond that, in some ways Lily Evans was quite like Hermione Granger today. She loved to spend time in the library, and was rather good at making connections between various magics. She was consistently ranked high in her year, and held an interest in reverse-engineering old enchantments and spells to see how they worked. On the other hand, while she was kind as I said, she didn’t have much patience for people whose brains didn’t work as fast as hers, although that got better over the years. I always thought she would have become a spell researcher or enchantress, had the war with You-Know-Who not brought your parents into it.”</p><p>Enchanting. His mom had been interested in enchantments, like Harry was. What about his father? “You said my mum was good at Potions and Charms. What was dad good at?”</p><p>“Transfiguration, Flying and Charms,” McGonagall answered instantly. “By the end of his time in Hogwarts, I felt he could have replaced me as a teacher eventually, his talent with Transfiguration was so great. I suspect he became an Animagus in school, but did it covertly so as not to be forced to register his ability with the Ministry of Magic. He never told me, nor do I have any idea what his Animagus form was, but that’s what I believe in any case.” She looked at Harry fondly. “He would have been over the moon to hear that his son managed Human Transfiguration in his second year. I want you to know that he would have been proud of you, and bragging about you to everyone he knew.”</p><p>Harry flushed a little, but felt his heart warm. “And… mum? I’m not that good at Potions…”</p><p>McGonagall gave him a look. “Harry, your mother likely would have started tutoring you on Potions over the summer if you were worried about it, but would not have loved you any less, or been any less proud of you. You are a good child, Harry. Polite, kind, empathetic, intelligent, and hard-working when the need arises. You have all the best parts of both of your parents, and I daresay they both would have claimed you to be doing far better than they were at your age. And they would have loved to see the man you will one day become.”</p><p>Abruptly, Harry realized that his vision was getting blurry. He reached up to wipe his eyes, belatedly realizing that he was crying. This kind of validation… to hear from someone who knew and liked his parents, who had taken the time to share some of who they were… how long had it been since he’d given up ever hearing it? Ever hearing anything positive about himself – not his skills, not what he’d done, but who he was – that he could directly relate back to his parents? Ever hearing, and believing, that his parents would have been <em>proud</em> of him? “I…” his voice broke, and he swallowed the hard lump in his throat and tried again, wiping more tears away furiously. “Thank you, Professor. Thank you so much.”</p><p>“It’s no trouble, Harry.” Was Harry’s ears fooling him, or did McGonagall’s voice sound a bit watery as well? “Oh, come here. I miss them too.”</p><p>And with that, the dam in his heart broke, and Harry couldn’t see at all anymore as he lunged at McGonagall, clutching her robes as he quietly sobbed into her embrace. And if Harry’s own shoulder got a bit moist as well, that was no one’s business.  </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Day 143 – Saturday, October 24, 1992</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Harry goes swimming with the Workout Club, and learns a useful bit of magic.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The past month had gone extremely smoothly, which Harry took as a pleasant surprise. While he was still extremely busy between Quidditch practice, the Workout Club, dealing with his fan mail backlog, and classes in general, Harry found that he rather liked keeping busy.</p><p>And he hadn’t been slacking off when it came to Divination, either. Harry had started activating the Sight during Charms and Transfiguration, so that he could watch the teachers and students casting magic. And much to his pleasant surprise, it helped him pick up the spells themselves a bit faster. Being able to see how the magic interacted with whatever the target was helped a lot with integrating the theory and the practical. Harry couldn’t keep the Sight active for very long in those classes, though – too much magical input was a fast way to give him a terrible headache.</p><p>Harry was heading down to the Workout Club now, wearing his swim trunks underneath his school uniform. Professor Sprout had told them that if the weather allowed, then they would be swimming today. They had been trying the last couple of weeks, but the weather the past two weekends had been rather unpleasant for it, but today looked pretty good. Indeed, the day was sunny and reasonably warm, so Harry was looking forward to it.</p><p>As soon as he got close enough, though, Harry recognized a friendly face that he hadn’t seen in a couple of months. “Starling!” he greeted cheerfully. “Good to see you.”</p><p>“Hey there, Potter. Long time no see,” the sixth year Slytherin acknowledged with an easy smile.</p><p>The other students looked between the two of them in astonishment. “You two know each other?” Susan asked.</p><p>“He taught me how to swim this last summer,” Harry told her with a grin. “I’ve been meaning to find him so we could get back into it, but I honestly lost track.”</p><p>“Don’t worry about it, Potter,” Starling said, shrugging it off. “It takes a bit of time to get settled in a routine. I’ve been busy too.”</p><p>“Which brings me to why Starling is here,” Professor Sprout cut in smoothly. “Starling is a skilled swimming instructor, and has been trained in water safety and how to recognize when someone is in trouble while swimming. If anyone has not been taught how to swim, now is the time to speak up.”</p><p>Neville raised his hand hesitantly. “I, er, don’t know how. How long does it take to learn?”</p><p>“About a week for the basics, if you’re swimming every day,” Starling told him simply. “You get what you put in. It’ll take longer if you’re not trying, or if you let your fear get in the way.”</p><p>Harry watched Neville hesitate, then saw the boy’s hand twitch towards his pocket. It was where Neville kept his father’s wand, Harry knew. Neville took a deep breath, then nodded. “Okay. Will you teach me?</p><p>“Sure.” Starling glanced at Sprout, who gave a subtle nod of acknowledgment. “Anyone else in need of the basics? No? Alright then. Longbottom, right? Follow me. Don’t want you distracted while you’re learning.”</p><p>Neville followed Starling resolutely as they walked towards another part of the lake.</p><p>“Well, that’s settled. Everyone into your swim wear, but bring your wands with you. We’re going to make today fun.”</p><p>Sprout smiled, and Harry suppressed a shiver of fear, quickly shucking off his robes and outerwear. The others followed suit, and before long they were all in the water. Harry shivered a bit at how cold the lake was, before ducking his head underwater and fully submerging himself momentarily, acclimating to the temperature more quickly.</p><p>“So today we’re going to play a little game that you children might be very familiar with. Marco Polo,” Sprout announced as they all tread water. “For those who aren’t familiar, the game is simple enough. One person is blinded and attempts to find the others, who must attempt to evade the finder. The finder may, at any time, call out ‘Marco’, and everyone else must answer ‘Polo’, thereby giving the finder a clue on where everyone is. But here’s the twist. Magic is permitted on both sides, but the finder is not permitted to cancel his blindness, and the evaders may not use any magic to leave the water. Beyond that, anything goes so long as you don’t injure each other. The finder may also use Stinging Hexes to tag evaders. If an evader is tagged, then they must tread water in place until the round is over.”</p><p>Sounded simple enough, Harry thought. Although it wasn’t terribly likely that anyone had any spells useful for fooling the finder. But he might be able to his Sight to catch people, maybe.</p><p>The game began, with Susan being the first finder. “Marco!” she called out immediately.</p><p>“Polo!” Harry called out, immediately flinging himself sideways, along with the others. Susan lunged where she’d heard him, but Harry was lucky enough to avoid it. However, the sound of Harry’s splash was enough for Susan to follow, and she was a faster swimmer than Harry was, so he was quickly touched and eliminated.</p><p>Harry tread water in place as Sprout directed, and at the next call of “Polo!” Susan tore off after Justin, who wasn’t half-bad at swimming apparently. Hannah quickly but quietly made her way over to Harry using the breaststroke, using him as a shield between herself and Harry.</p><p>“Clever,” Harry complimented quietly enough to go unheard from Susan, who missed Justin by inches.</p><p>“Marco!”</p><p>“Polo!” Hannah called out, before lowering her voice. “It’s the only way I win at this game,” she admitted. “Susan’s a very good swimmer. Any ideas on what kind of magic we can use?”</p><p>“Nothing safe to use while swimming,” Harry admitted. “Best I’ve got is for us to <em>Wingardium</em> each other, and it’s harder to tread water without both hands. Might need to go learn a Deafness Hex or some such.”</p><p>“Now there’s an idea.”</p><p>“Marco!” Susan called out again, with a pouting Justin next to her, treading water in place. Evidently he’d been caught.</p><p>“Polo!” Hannah answered, moving to be a few feet behind Harry.</p><p>Predictably, Susan bumped into Harry. “Hannah?”</p><p>“Nope. Harry.”</p><p>“Oh, this again!” Susan rolled her eyes. “Marco!”</p><p>“Polo!” Hannah replied, then shifting to her left as Susan darted around Harry’s side. She quickly began swimming towards Justin, ready to repeat the process, but Susan caught on by the sound of her splashes and caught Hannah just as she reached Justin’s side.</p><p>Sprout waved her wand, silently removing Susan’s blindness. “Well done. Now, you should all be feeling a bit of strain from the constant swimming and treading water. We will play twice more, and then move back into the shallows.”</p><hr/><p>In both of the following games, Harry lost pretty quickly – he simply wasn’t as fast as the others, and that rankled him a bit, even if he HAD just learned this last summer. So when the time came after the Workout Club to drag his body back to the castle for dinner – Neville decided to stay out a bit later with Starling – Harry told Hermione that needed to go to the library afterwards.</p><p>Ron looked at him like he’d just said he needed to go dunk his head in a toilet, while Hermione simply smiled, delighted. “What’re you looking for?” she asked curiously. “I’d be happy to help.”</p><p>“Spells that affect sound. Making things louder or quieter, or making them sound like they’re coming from where else, like you’re throwing your voice. Failing that, a hex or jinx to make someone temporarily deaf.”</p><p>“Sounds like you need a Silencing Charm, mate,” Ron said around a mouthful of potatoes. When both Hermione and Harry looked at him in disbelief, Ron swallowed his food and rolled his eyes. “Come on. I’ve got five brothers and a sister. And two of them are Fred and George. Do you really think that none of us have asked for peace and quiet before? Or driven our mum spare?”</p><p>He had a point, Harry had to admit. “So, how do you cast it?” he asked.</p><p>“No idea. Mum always cast it silently, and we aren’t allowed to use magic during the holidays. But I do remember Charlie mentioning once how annoying it was that he couldn’t use it after he learned how. I think I was eight back then, so it would’ve been fourth or fifth year.”</p><p>Hermione furrowed her brows. “Your brother Percy’s in sixth year, right? Do you think he would teach us?”</p><p>Ron thought about it for a few seconds. “He might, yeah. Not like you can really hurt anyone with that spell. A simple <em>Finite</em> will usually dispel it, supposedly. Worth trying, I guess.”</p><p>So decided, they reached out to Percy that very evening. As it happened, Percy was delighted to be approached by the three of them (Harry rather thought that Percy just wanted to be seen as dependable by Ron, but didn’t voice it aloud) and promptly went over the theory. Hermione struggled a bit but managed to follow along, while Harry and Ron were completely lost.</p><p>Seeing this, Percy decided to start over. “Alright. Harry, Ron, do you two know how voices work?”</p><p>“Er, no…” Harry admitted.</p><p>Percy pointed at his throat. “Inside my throat is what we call a voice box. Without going into too much detail, basically when I want to talk, my body will push air through it and vibrate the muscles inside. This makes the air being pushed through vibrate as it escapes my mouth. Sound is, ultimately, vibration.”</p><p>“Okay…” Ron said, a little unsure.</p><p>“Perhaps a practical example. Have you ever seen a string instrument? A guitar, a lute, a violin, a harp perhaps?”</p><p>Harry remembered the one playing music to Fluffy at the end of their first year. “Yeah, a harp.”</p><p>“Well, how does a harp make sound?”</p><p>“That’s easy, you pluck the string…” Ron trailed off. “And then it <em>vibrates</em>. Oh!”</p><p>“Right. The string is moving so fast it’s hitting the air, making the <em>air </em>vibrate, and that is what makes sound. The Silencing Charm works by surrounding the target with magic that will absorb those vibrations, instead of letting them hit the air, or the floor, or anything else. Since the air doesn’t vibrate, no sound is made. Cast it on a person’s throat and they will not be able to make a sound by speaking. Cast it on your shoes and you’ll walk completely silently on the stone. Cast it on your door and you won’t hear a knock.”</p><p>“Because the magic would absorb the door’s vibrations,” Harry murmured to himself.</p><p>“Precisely,” Percy said, pleased. “However, it’s tricky to get right, and requires a bit more a delicate touch than I’d expect you all to manage. If you don’t get the magic field right, it can make the target louder instead, or simply make them swell up like a balloon. Sometimes both. Professor Flitwick had us practicing on frogs when we learned in my fifth year, but doing it on inanimate objects like doors or desks should be safer for you three to start with.”</p><p>“What’s the incantation?” Hermione asked eagerly.</p><p>“<em>Silencio</em>. Here’s the wand movement.” Percy demonstrated, and all three of them mimicked him.</p><p>“Any chance of a demonstration?” Harry asked hopefully, readying himself to activate his Sight.</p><p>“Why not? Ron, would you mind?”</p><p>“I suppose,” Ron agreed with a grumble.</p><p>“<em>Silencio!</em>”</p><p>Sight active, Harry watched Percy’s magic swell up in an instant, colorless and shapeless, but carrying an impression of something that Harry couldn’t quite catch. The spell travelled lightning-fast, though, and Harry saw… felt... divined that the spell settled around Ron’s throat. It kind of glittered when he looked for it, Harry thought.</p><p>Ron tried to say something, and Harry could see his mouth move, saw his chest move as Ron breathed, but heard no sound whatsoever. With the Sight, Harry could see the magic holding a spot in his friend’s throat still. That must be Ron’s voice box, he reckoned.</p><p>After a few seconds, Percy cancelled the spell with a lazy flick and a murmured <em>“Finite.</em>” Raising his voice, he then continued his instruction. “So, I don’t expect any of you to get it right tonight – it really is a bit tricky until you’ve got a feel for more magics – but do any of you want to give it a try?”</p><p>Hermione went first, using Percy as her test subject. “<em>Silencio!</em>” Harry watched her magic settle into Percy’s throat, just like his had… but it seemed incomplete somehow. He just couldn’t put his finger on it.</p><p>After a moment, Percy opened his mouth to speak. “It appears,” he said with an incredibly high-pitched voice, “that your attempt did not quite work. <em>Finite</em>.” After his voice returned to normal, he gave Hermione a smile. “A good attempt, though I will thank you not to tell the twins about this. I rather think they don’t need more joke product ideas.”</p><p>Ron did his best to control his sniggers as he took his turn. “<em>Silencio!</em>” If Harry was seeing Ron’s spell correctly, it was rather more blunt than either Hermione’s or Percy’s. And the spell was definitely going to go wrong.</p><p>“I’M AFRAID THAT DIDN’T WORK,” Percy boomed, apparently speaking normally but having his voice amplified. “<em>FINITE</em>. Although that is an excellent approximation of the Amplifying Charm, <em>Sonorus.</em> I daresay you’ll get that one quite quickly if you can get the Silencing Charm down, Ron.”</p><p>Ron, who had looked a bit embarrassed at having messed up the spell, looked a bit happier at that. “Well, go on, Harry. Give it a go.”</p><p>Harry nodded resolutely, deactivating his Sight to avoid getting a headache. He’d been thinking while the others took their turns. Percy had used the harp imagery in order to help sink in that sound was vibration. So, to keep the harp from making sound, you had to hold the string still, right? Taking a deep breath, he went through the wand motion, focusing on that thought of holding the strings still, and cast. “<em>Silencio!</em>”</p><p>Percy waited a moment, then tried to speak. “Hello?” he said, though it came out as a whisper. “Okay. <em>Finite</em>. A very good first attempt indeed, Harry. You didn’t have me completely silenced, but that was much closer than I was expecting. I imagine with a few hours of practice you’ll have it down. May I ask what you were visualizing?”</p><p>“Holding the strings of a harp still,” Harry told him, both embarrassed and pleased. “Since sounds are vibrations, if I hold the strings still, there won’t be any sound.”</p><p>“That’s a good image,” Percy praised.</p><p>“Oh. That’s why I made you loud,” Ron said aloud. “I was imagining you yelling but me not able to hear you. I was focused on the wrong thing.”</p><p>Percy beamed at Ron. “Well done! I’m sure you’ll get it, you three. In any case, it’s late and I’ve got some homework I’ve got to finish, so I’m off. Good night.”</p><p>“Good night,” Harry and his friends chorused.</p><p>As soon as Percy left, Hermione turned to Ron with a smile. “Your brother’s quite… Ron? Ron, what’s wrong?”</p><p>“I don’t want to talk about it.” Ron looked down, and Harry was taken aback. Something in Ron’s eyes gave Harry the impression that he was disappointed in himself. That he’d tried and failed at something important. But the only thing they’d been doing was the Silencing Charm. Surely Ron didn’t think he’d get it right the first time? Except… except that Harry nearly had. Was Ron comparing himself to Harry, and feeling like he didn’t match up or some nonsense like that?</p><p>Harry and Hermione exchanged glances over Ron’s head, and Hermione’s head tilted forward a fraction of an inch, indicating Harry should try.</p><p>“Hey mate,” Harry said quietly. “I get that you don’t want to talk, but can you listen? I think I’ve got an idea, so maybe you can tell me if I’m right or not?”</p><p>“… Fine.”</p><p>Harry nodded. “Okay. So, just thinking out loud for a minute, Percy’s pretty good at magic, and was happy to help. And he’s pretty good at teaching, it looks like. Or at least tutoring.” Judging from the way Ron’s jaw set, Harry was more confident he was on the right track. “I think you were trying to impress Percy by getting the Silencing Charm down years before you were supposed to be taught it. And you’re disappointed in yourself because you didn’t manage.”</p><p>Ron huffed a bitter laugh. “Got me all figured out. Stupid, isn’t it? It’s a fifth-year charm. To be making any progress as second years ought to be enough, right?” He shook his head. “But it’s not. I… I wanted him to see me. I’m the sixth son in my family, and everyone before me found their niche. Bill with his curse-breaking, and Charlie and his dragons, and Percy and his Ministry ambitions, and the twins with that joke shop they’re working towards… and then there’s me. Everyone’s so busy at home, no one really sees me. Dad’s always working late at the Ministry to put food on the table, Mum’s always bustling around home trying to keep everyone and everything in one piece, Bill and Charlie are gone, and… I get why things are the way they are, it just hurts. I wanted Percy to see me get that stupid charm down and see that I’ve got talent too. That I’m more than just chess and food, that I’m worth more than scraps of attention every now and then.”</p><p>It struck Harry like a thunderbolt. Ron was <em>lonely</em>. Surrounded by family, and still lonely because none of his loving family spent time with him.</p><p>Before Harry could figure out what to do, Hermione swooped in with a crushing hug for Ron. “Oh, Ron… I’m sorry.”</p><p>“What for? It’s not your fault,” Ron told her roughly, but made no move to escape the embrace.</p><p>“Yeah,” Harry agreed, “but still. You know that we see you, right?”</p><p>“Course I do. We’re mates.”</p><p>“So how about we get not just the Silencing Charm but that Amplifying Charm down by tomorrow and really show Percy,” Harry proposed. “And then next time that Fred and George become a nuisance you can just Silence them and walk away. Won’t that leave an impression?”</p><p>Ron’s answering smile was hesitant, but genuine.</p><p>And when Percy found his path the next morning waylaid, only to find that Ron had mastered both <em>Silencio </em>and <em>Sonorus</em>, his startled expression and enthusiastic congratulations had Ron grinning from ear to ear.</p>
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<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Days 150-157</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A ghostly Halloween, punctuated with an unforeseen meeting. Research and a request.</p>
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    <p>
  <strong>Day 150 - Saturday, October 31, 1992</strong>
</p><p>Harry silently cursed his generally helpful nature as he shivered slightly. If only he hadn’t agreed to attend Nearly Headless Nick’s Deathday party…</p><p>A few days prior, Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington – the Gryffindor House Ghost – had asked Harry to turn up in order to bolster his reputation and help prevent his Deathday party from being hijacked by an organization of completely-decapitated ghosts called the Headless Hunt. Being only <em>nearly </em>headless, Nick was evidently the object of some mockery on their part, since he had been trying for years to join the Headless Hunt.</p><p>Harry, feeling a bit sorry for the poor fellow, had agreed to turn up. Nick had helped him out before, after all. And it wasn’t Nick’s fault that his executioner had been terrible at his job. Hermione had decided to join him, curious what a Deathday celebration might look like. Ron had joined for sheer solidarity, and Susan had decided that a Deathday party might be more exciting than the Halloween feast.</p><p>Unfortunately, nothing could be further from the truth. It was frightfully dull and gloomy, with a table of rotting food whose stench was enough to make Harry gag from meters away. Evidently this was so a ghost could <em>almost </em>taste it. On top of that, the sheer number of ghosts had made the atmosphere almost frigid, making the affair a thoroughly miserable one.</p><p>Peeves had made an appearance, upsetting a rather dramatic teenage ghost that Hermione had identified as Moaning Myrtle, and Harry had been preparing his excuses to leave when the Headless Hunt showed up on phantom horses, to the applause of the various guests. True to Nick’s prediction, the leader – apparently named Sir Patrick –had quickly begun to upstage poor Nick’s Deathday before noticing Harry and his friends.</p><p>“Live ‘uns!” Sir Patrick cried out in apparent shock, making a show of his head falling off his shoulders, creating a howl of ghostly laughter from Nick’s guests.</p><p>Nick himself was looking decidedly bitter. “Very amusing,” he said darkly.</p><p>“Ah, don’t mind Nick!” shouted Sir Patrick’s head from the floor. “He’s still upset that we won’t let him join the Hunt!”</p><p>Nick gave Harry a meaningful look, and Harry opened his mouth to say that Nick was plenty scary, but another thought crossed his head. “Excuse me,” he said slowly, “because I’m still learning, but is there anything that could finish cutting off Nick’s head? I mean, it’s hardly his fault that his executioner bungled it, and since it is his 500<sup>th</sup> Deathday and all, it would be an, an auspicious time, you know. Since he does want so badly to join the Hunt.”</p><p>Sir Patrick’s body reached down and lifted his head from the floor, reattaching it to his neck. “Afraid not, young one. A ghost’s form is defined by how we were when we finished shuffling off our mortal coil. No weapon, living or dead can change that. Even spells can only cause us discomfort, or forcibly move or seal us – it cannot inflict a true wound.”</p><p>“Believe me, I’ve tried,” Nicholas agreed. “The Bloody Baron, at my request, tried to finish the job with his sword. I even approached a couple of Headmasters over the years. No, it simply can’t be done.”</p><p>
  <em>It can. </em>
</p><p>A chill went down Harry’s spine, and he knew it was from something well beside the utter cold the ghosts in residency provided. Nicholas began to argue with Sir Patrick about something or other, but Harry was no longer listening to him. He’d heard that voice before – a dream that wasn’t a dream, a vision, a warning. But, how could he hear her? He wasn’t facing a fated enemy, or on the verge of death.</p><p>
  <em>Open your Third Eye, Harry James Potter, for I would speak with you. </em>
</p><p>Harry swallowed a lump in his throat. Dumbledore had said that gods did not tend to do things for mortal benefit. But nor was it wise to anger them. He reluctantly did as he was told, activating his Sight. As he did, the world around him slowed, the sounds grew deeper and longer until they simply… halted.</p><p>Except the sound of footsteps, and the clicking of metal against stone. A raven-haired woman, garbed in a pitch-black flowing dress, using a wickedly sharp-looking spear almost as a walking stick, was walking toward Harry from the table of rotting food. Her feet were bare, and her wrists and ankles bore strange markings that Harry had no knowledge of – maybe Celtic tattoos? But in any case, Harry knew her for who she was: The Morrigan.</p><p>“Harry James Potter.” Her voice was cool, sharp, and deep, a perfect match for her almost expressionless face. “You have been busy these last few months.”</p><p>“Yes, ma’am,” Harry admitted.</p><p>“You are no doubt wondering how we are able to speak like this.” The Morrigan’s lips turned up ever so slightly. “You stand in a nexus of death, surrounded by ghosts. This once again places you close enough to my demesne to speak, if you have the means. For most, this is achievable via dreams. For those with some skill and talent in Divination, however, it is possible to seek an audience.”</p><p>Harry nodded slowly. “Thank you for telling me,” he said respectfully. “I will be sure to use this knowledge wisely.”</p><p>“Now that I have answered the how, it is time for me to answer why it is I sought this meeting with you.” The Morrigan’s nails clicked against her spear as she tapped it once, twice, thrice. “Your actions this summer have struck a mighty blow against your fated enemy. One of his Horcruxes has been destroyed.”</p><p>“What? How?” Harry blurted. The Morrigan arched an eyebrow, and Harry had the distinct impression that he was in very real danger. “Sorry! Please excuse my rudeness, I was taken by surprise,” he hurriedly said. “Would you please elaborate?”</p><p>“Better,” the Morrigan said simply. “I am able to track your movements in relation to your fated enemy, as fate and war are within my purview. Because of your actions regarding the house-elf Dobby, mortal law enforcement was able to find the Horcrux among the belongings of a student. After identifying it as an extremely subversive dark enchantment – though they knew not its true nature – they destroyed the Horcrux. While they were the ones to destroy it, it was only possible when you involved them. A wise decision.”  </p><p>“Thank you.” There really wasn’t anything else to say to that. All Harry had done was call the Aurors for help with his mail problem. But doing so <em>had </em>set it all into motion, he supposed. “You said last time that Voldemort had multiple Horcruxes. Would you tell me how many there are?”</p><p>The Morrigan shook her head negatively. “I cannot, for I know not. My demesne is death, fate and war. Artifacts binding him to life are firmly beyond my knowledge, until a spirit fragment bound to such an artifact dies.”</p><p>“Then how did you know there were multiple?” Harry questioned, confused.</p><p>“My husband, the Dagda. His demesne is life, death, wisdom, magic, fertility, strength and more. It was he who alerted many of the gods to your fated enemy’s forbidden soul fragmentation.”</p><p>“Could I speak with him?” Harry asked hopefully. “Would he help me find the Horcruxes?”</p><p>The Morrigan laughed, a sharp sound that froze Harry to the spot. After several seconds of quiet laughter, she spoke to him. “All mortals who know of the Dagda wish to see him, for one reason or another. Your task, however, is such that I am certain that he would speak with you, if you entreat him within his demesne. You must grow, child. Grow wise, strong, and skilled in magic. Once you do, stand in a place where life and death are both in abundance, and seek him out.”</p><p>Harry bit his lip and nodded.</p><p>The Morrigan’s features softened ever so slightly. “Enough about that for now, child. Leave that task to your betters while you grow. For now, you wished to know how to help the ghost of Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington?”</p><p>“Yes, ma’am.”</p><p>“A ghost’s form is an imprint of the final moment of a soul in its lifetime, a reflection of what the soul believes they look like. The matter is simple enough, but the task quite difficult. You need merely convince Sir Nicholas that his head is <em>already</em> separated. You must make him believe that it is true, and it will become his true image.”</p><p>Harry opened his mouth to ask if it was really that easy, but then thought better of it. Sir Nicholas was 500 years dead now, and had tried many times. It would be quite hard indeed to convince him that his dearest wish had come true. Harry would need something <em>really </em>convincing. “I see. I will remember that.”</p><p>The Morrigan looked at him piercingly, leaving Harry no doubt at all that she could see everything that had run through his head just then. “Good. It’s a rare soul indeed who seeks to aid the dead.” The Morrigan stepped back slowly, a black mist slowly emerging from behind her. “Our time draws short. Beware, Harry James Potter. Your fate is a difficult one. Learn your lessons well. Grow wise and strong, and you may yet survive your fated enemy.” And with that, her body turned completely black, and then fluttered away as a murder of crows cawing and flapping away in every direction, leaving Harry alone.</p><p>And then, abruptly with no warning at all, time resumed, and Harry’s ears were filled with ghostly laughter as Sir Patrick entertained Nick’s guests. Nick floated at his podium, looking bitter and frustrated.</p><p>“We should leave,” Hermione said quietly but urgently.</p><p>“With any luck, there’ll still be some Halloween feast left,” Ron agreed. Susan said nothing, but rubbed her arms in an attempt to warm up, and it was clear she was ready to go.</p><p>Harry nodded in assent, and “Let me just say goodbye to Nick.” He made his way quickly to his House Ghost. “Hey Nick. Sorry that it didn’t work out.”</p><p>“It’s not your fault.” Nick sighed. “I do appreciate you coming. The fact that I had living guests will be remembered, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now. Maybe I should give up on ever joining the Headless Hunt.”</p><p>“Well, if you want, I can do some research on my end,” Harry offered. “If you give me a bit of time, I might be able to find something to do the trick.”</p><p>“I appreciate the offer, Harry, truly. But I cannot ask for that. If you come across something, please let me know, but don’t put yourself out on my account.”</p><p>Harry pursed his lips, but didn’t argue further. Maybe he could tell Dumbledore, and Dumbledore would somehow manage the job. Retreating back to his friends, they quickly left, thoroughly appreciating how much warmer it was further away from the many apparitions.</p><p>“Poor Nick,” Hermione commiserated as she warmed up. “The Headless Hunt couldn’t let him have one thing, could they?”</p><p>“I dunno, they were pretty entertaining,” Ron admitted. “It’s just bad luck that Nick can’t join them.”</p><p>“I just think it’s sad that there are so many ghosts that haven’t reached their peace,” Susan said quietly. Harry looked at her quizzically, and Susan nodded. “Oh, right. You wouldn’t know, would you? Well, you know ghosts don’t know what’s in the afterlife, because they had something tying them down to our world? My Auntie always told me that it’s the kind thing to do to help them find whatever happiness they can, and if you’re ever told what keeps them here, to help them resolve the problem if you can.”</p><p>Ron nodded in agreement, affirming Susan’s explanation. “There are few stories for kids about helping friendly or depressed ghosts, but it’s kinda rude to just ask what’s keeping them here. Like they’re not welcome or something. Kind of obvious though that Nick’s frustrated about his head, though.”</p><p>Susan sighed. “Only thing to do is stay friends with him as best you can, and if you come across anything that might help…”</p><p>Hermione and Harry traded glances, knowing that they were both committing the cultural insight to memory. “So, exorcisms are… frowned on?” Harry guessed.</p><p>“Depends,” Susan answered after a moment. “Think of… the Leaky Cauldron, I suppose. If someone’s paying their rent and not doing anything wrong, kicking them out would be just rude. But if someone’s hurting people, it’s just necessary. The same idea for exorcising spirits, but instead of the Leaky Cauldron, it’s the world.”</p><p>Ah. Put like that, Harry understood.</p><p>They made it to the Great Hall without incident, and to all of their delight, the feast was still ongoing. Susan quickly rejoined her friends in Hufflepuff, while Harry, Ron and Hermione joined the Gryffindors, partaking in the delicious spread laid out for them.</p><p>It was only that night as he lay in bed drifting towards sleep, that Harry allowed his thoughts to return to the Morrigan, and the Dagda. If the Dagda could answer his questions about how many Horcruxes there were, and where they might be, then Harry needed to meet with him. The Morrigan had told him that in order to do so, Harry needed to grow wise, and strong, and skilled with magic. He was working on strength, in the Workout Club, and he was at Hogwarts to learn magic. But… how does one become wise?</p><p>Harry was still mulling it over as his eyes closed and his breath evened out, until he realized that he wouldn’t be getting an answer tonight. And with that realization, Harry gave into the siren call of sleep.</p><hr/><p>Over the next few days, Harry spent quite some time preoccupied about wisdom. After the uncomfortable realization that this was a question that one would typically ask a trusted parent/guardian, and that Harry didn’t really have one of those, he decided to pull a Hermione and research wisdom in the library. Surely this was something that wizards would have recorded somewhere, right?</p><p>It took him a few days, but the results were… mixed. Wisdom apparently had two meanings in magical society. The first was simply the accumulation of one’s experience and knowledge and how it was used for decision-making and such. Basically, using the past to understand the present or predict future. It was the same definition that Muggles used, really.</p><p>The second meaning was the ability to discern the truth of things, to see something’s underlying nature. It was this meaning of wise that was synonymous with dangerous in magical society, because secrets were currency in this world. Harry reckoned that Diviners were considered wise in that regard, if not respected for it.</p><p>But which meaning did the Morrigan mean? Harry had the sinking suspicion that she meant both, and made a mental note to keep working on his Divination and to do his best in Hogwarts.</p><p>Harry did find some odd bits of knowledge in his research. Rowena Ravenclaw had apparently enchanted a diadem to increase one’s wisdom somehow, though that had been lost ages ago. There existed luck potions to increase the chances of you making good decisions, though there was some debate on whether that counted as wisdom. There was another potion called the Wit-Sharpening Potion that was would apparently let someone think more clearly, but didn’t really impact whether that person would exercise good judgment.</p><p>On the whole, there wasn’t a magical shortcut to gaining wisdom. There were a couple of magical shortcuts for gaining knowledge, though they usually came with a cost and/or significant risk. For example, Harry had found a potion to help with learning languages, which sounded great, but… brewing the potion was rather complex and required expensive ingredients. On top of that, the drinker had to be proficient in mental magics to prevent some really terrible side-effects like forgetting how to speak your native tongue. And the potion could only be taken once per year at most, or the drinker would be risking seizures.</p><p>No, it seemed that Harry could only increase his knowledge and wisdom the old-fashioned way – through direct study and experience. It was disappointing, but not unexpected, really. He’d just have to work hard at his classes and learning Divination. And… he’d have to start working ahead. He only had seven years, and that was just the length of a Hogwarts education. If Harry wanted to meet the Dagda, if he wanted to resolve the whole problem with Voldemort’s Horcruxes, then he couldn’t just skate by. Harry had to excel.</p><p>And he knew the first big project he needed to tackle: removing Sir Nicholas’s head from his shoulders. And to do that, he needed to be able to convince Sir Nicholas that his head had already been removed. For that, he’d need a powerful command of illusions, something that was far beyond the scope of any second year.</p><p>He needed a teacher, someone who wasn’t afraid to teach him something that he wasn’t supposed to know yet. Well, Harry knew just who to talk to for that.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>Day 157 - Saturday, November 7, 1992</strong>
</p><p>“Professor?”</p><p>“Hmm?” Lockhart glanced at Harry curiously as Harry set aside another completed reply.</p><p>“How good are you with illusions?”</p><p>Lockhart set down his quill and raised an eyebrow at his companion. “As it happens, illusions are one of my specialties. I’m rather proficient with glamour spells, as I rather like looking my best no matter the circumstance. Helps with my confidence, you know, and it’s rather useful as a demoralizing tactic in a duel if I look completely unbothered by my opponent even if I’m actually having a rough time. Why do you ask?”</p><p>Huh. That made sense – Harry made a mental note to ask Lockhart about glamours more later. That said, Harry had completely forgotten to figure out a good reason to want to know. “I, er, well…” Inspiration! “I’ve been studying Divination on my own time, and thought that it’d be interesting to be able to show other people the way the Sight works for me.”</p><p>Lockhart’s other eyebrow rose to join its compatriot. “You’ve able to activate your Sight at will? Before ever taking a Divination class? My, my, you are quite talented, aren’t you?”</p><p>Harry flushed at the compliment. “Thank you, Professsor,” he mumbled, looking down.</p><p>“Now, now, none of that,” Lockhart chided gently. “You should be proud of your talents. We’ll work on your ability to take a compliment later. Now. Why Divination, if I may ask?”</p><p>How to explain without spilling the beans about the gods and Voldemort’s Horcruxes… “Dumbledore mentioned that he wasn’t very good at Divination when I talked to him last June, and I got curious. Turns out I’m reasonably good at it.”</p><p>Lockhart leaned back in his chair. “Dumbledore, not good at Divination? I never would have guessed it, from the way he seems to know everything. I can certainly understand being curious. And there are a number of careers where a bit of skill in Divination would be helpful. How far do you intend to take it?”</p><p>“As far as I can,” Harry said simply.</p><p>Lockhart paused, scrutinizing Harry’s expression. “It would be a shame to cut you off from a talent, but you <em>have </em>heard about the stigma surrounding Diviners? And you still intend to go as far as you can? If you’re found out, it would certainly risk turning your fame into infamy.”</p><p>Harry nodded seriously. “I’ve heard. I’m still going to learn, I just don’t plan on advertising it.”</p><p>“I understand.” Making a show of looking both ways in the otherwise empty office, Lockhart leaned in conspiratorially. Harry, curious, leaned closer too. “Between you and me,” the Professor said quietly, slowly, “I am quite skilled at Memory Charms. I don’t advertise it either; people good at that are almost as feared as Diviners, because instead of ferreting out secrets, we can make people forget anything, or worse, make people remember something that didn’t happen.”</p><p>“Whoa…” Harry breathed, awed. “That’s wicked.”</p><p>“It is!” Lockhart agreed with a little secret smile, leaning back in his chair. “I’m rather proud of the skill, yes. And honestly, it shouldn’t be that bad in my opinion. There’s an entire organization of people who specialize in Memory Charms in the Ministry of Magic, to cover up magical incidents in the non-magical world. The whole fear of people who know the spell is more than a bit ridiculous, in my humble opinion! It shouldn’t matter a bit if I’m good at it, it should just be a question if I ever actually <em>use </em>it! But therein lies the fear, I suppose… how would they know if I did?” Lockhart sighed, settling back down into his chair from his brief impassioned rant. “In any case, Harry, it’s really quite important to me that this stay between the two of us. If it got out that I could do Memory Charms, it could ruin my writing career.”</p><p>“Of course!”</p><p>Lockhart beamed at him. “I’m glad. Now, I believe you had asked about illusions, yes? Changing someone’s perceptions directly is rather tricky, and as talented as you are, I don’t think we can skip directly to that lesson. I think we’ll need to start with the basics – projecting images into the air. Once you have sight down, we can move on to sound. After you’ve mastered that, then we can work on targeted illusions. Do well, and maybe I’ll share an odd secret or two about Memory Charms.”</p><p>Harry grinned from ear to ear. “That sounds amazing!”</p><p>“But!” Lockhart raised a finger. “You need to finish your letters first. It’s not good to take on too many tasks at once. And don’t you rush them! I’ll know if you do.”</p><p>“Yes, sir!”  </p>
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